


welcome to new york

by sunshineflying



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Implied Niall Horan/Harry Styles, M/M, OT5 Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-04
Updated: 2015-10-04
Packaged: 2018-04-24 17:10:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4928098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshineflying/pseuds/sunshineflying
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>five lads.<br/>five different destinations.<br/>five problems they can’t manage to solve on their own. </p><p>a series of freak snowstorms over england leave travelers stranded at heathrow airport. niall, louis, liam, harry, and zayn all cross each other’s paths and form lasting friendships that get each other not only through the tedious delays but through far more, as well. who knew a delay could bring so much good?</p>
            </blockquote>





	welcome to new york

**Author's Note:**

> First and foremost, I'd like to thank the mods for coordinating the summer bang. It was the push I needed to finish this WIP! Maria, thank you so much for agreeing to be my beta again and looking over my tedious first draft to make it into something worth reading. I couldn't have done this without you! I'd also like to thank my Paylinshaw friends for cheerleading me on this and all my writing.
> 
> I'd like to add that since starting this it has been brought to my attention that this much snow never happens in London. Let us all suspend that belief because tropes that bring these five together in an alternate universe are fun, regardless of my terrible knowledge of geography and weather.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who reads and gives feedback. You guys are the ones who keep me writing!

 It’s December, exactly four days before Christmas, and all of London is ready for a perfect holiday.

A light patch of snow is floating through the area, giving everyone a beautiful dusting to wake up to in the early hours of morning.

It shimmers in the rising sunlight, casting dreams of a white Christmas in every direction.

It’s perfect…

Well, unless there’s traveling involved.

Then it’s not so great.

 

**8:00 AM, London**

The wind is picking up as the train pulls up to the station at Heathrow Airport.

Louis Tomlinson is glad for the short distance from the train to the doors – he’s got a beanie on but it doesn’t protect him from the cold well. He frowns because he really doesn’t like snow in his ears or face. He tosses his duffel bag over his shoulder and ducks his head as he trudges into the airport, hoping to avoid the specks of icy, prickly snow. He sputters and pauses to wipe one away as it lands right in his eye.

He’s grumbling and it’s incredibly early, but he’s got an important casting audition to attend in New York – the first one he’s ever gotten – so the early morning flight will be worth it. He’s nervous and excited and didn’t sleep well the night before. He left Doncaster by train at five o’clock that morning, so he’s hoping to catch some sleep on the flight to New York if his nerves will allow it. He’s always managed to score smaller roles or leads in small theatres like his school group years before, but this is big. This is New York City. This is his chance to be on a sitcom and he saved up and took extra work just to be able to go to the audition, but it doesn’t matter because it could be his big break.

He shakes the snow off his head and ignores the squeak of his slip-on Vans on the linoleum as he walks towards the bag check-in counter. He shuffles in his bag and retrieves his passport before queueing at the check-in counter. The line is long and Louis is impatient, but he tosses his bag down on the floor and kicks it along so that’s a weight off his back – literally – as he waits.

By the time he reaches the counter he’s ready for some tea and he can’t wait to get going so he can grab a cuppa before boarding. After checking his bag and moving past the check-in counter, it’s nearly nine o’clock. He’s antsy while he stands in the security queue, mostly because he’s bored; his flight doesn’t leave for another fifty-five minutes.

He’s grateful for being randomly sorted into a line with travel-wise businessmen and other young travelers like himself. Or maybe it wasn’t so random – he’s not sure. Louis slips back into his shoes and just as he walks into the terminal proper he hears the announcement:

 _“British Airways flight zero-one-seven-five with service to New York has been delayed due to weather.  
__O_ _ur new departure time will be 10:50 am from the same gate: gate A15._  
_Please see the nearest service desk for assistance if you have any questions. Thank you.”_

Louis pauses right in the center of the corridor and heaves an annoyed sigh. He could have left home an hour later if he’d known his flight would be delayed, which would have meant an extra hour of sleep – even if it _was_ fitful and restless. The reasonable part of him knows there’s no way anyone could have predicted this, but he’s annoyed all the same. Now that he’s got an extra hour, Louis takes his time queuing at the nearest coffee shop – a Starbucks, much to his dismay – and waits his turn to order some tea.

Once he’s got his tea in hand, Louis feels a little more at ease. It’s always had the ability to calm him just a little. He really just wants to get to New York and do this audition – and at this point he’s beginning to wonder what he’ll do if the weather prevents him from making it at all – so he takes a big sip and closes his eyes, telling himself to calm down. Just because there are plows on the runway and he can faintly hear announcements for other delayed flights as well, doesn’t mean something bad will happen.

He’s never found much sense in worrying, anyway. It’s not like it’s ever gotten him anywhere.

 

**9:30 AM**

Liam Payne looks around as he steps out of the jet bridge, freed from the stifling interior of the small domestic flight. He’s on his way to Paris, and just as the woman on the overhead speakers had announced, he was one of the passengers who’d missed his connecting flight due to weather. With nervous hands, he fumbles with his luggage.

He glances around and wonders how soon the next flight leaves; he’s itching to get to Paris to see his fiancée and hopes he can still snag a seat on the next flight out of London. Patiently, Liam stands in the queue for what feels like forever until finally he’s at the front of the line. The woman at the desk takes down his information and takes a look at his passport before she says, “We have one spot left on the next flight out, which leaves at 11:45 am. Otherwise you’ll have to wait until 3:15 this afternoon.”

“I’ll take the 11:45 flight, please,” Liam says kindly.

He can see how frustrated other passengers are getting, and he doesn’t want to be one more problem for this woman. Besides, rushing her won’t make his new flight leave any sooner. He flashes her a warm smile and she types away. There’s the sound of the typing, then the printer spitting out a new ticket, and she holds it out for him. “We had one open up in first class last minute. We appreciate your patience, sir,” she says with a wink.

Liam glows, thanks her profusely, and wishes her happy holidays as he steps aside. He faintly hears her saying that they have one more spot on the next flight – the one he thought he was getting – and he’s proud of himself. Most of his friends tell him he’s too nice, but in this case it paid off. Not only does he get the soonest flight to Paris, but so does someone else. Liam stores this in his memory, determined not to let it slip away so he can use it against his friends the next time they criticize him for his manners.

With his new ticket in the breast pocket of his denim jacket, he wanders off to the nearest coffee stand to get something to drink. Tea sounds nice but he’s tired, as he arrived at the Manchester airport bright and early at five thirty that morning, so he orders a strong black coffee instead. More caffeine. As he wanders to his new gate, wheeling his small carry-on suitcase behind him, Liam looks around at all the people.

He can see the heavier snow beginning to fall outside and the frantic looks on some people’s faces as they watch with their noses practically pressed to the windows. A mother is stressing out her kids over at gate 12, with the father standing annoyed at her side, on the phone and oblivious to the struggles of his wife.

At gate 13 there’s a young lady worrying that she won’t make it home in time, tears already welling in her eyes as she begs them to get her on the soonest flight to Budapest. He feels a pang of sympathy in his chest; for some people, seeing their family is what gets them through, and maybe they haven’t seen them for months leading up to this day. It would be terrible for them to not make it home for the holidays.

Finally he finds gate A16, which is where his next flight will be departing from. He’s got some time to burn so he sits down next to the charging tower, and he finds that it surprisingly only has one person using it. He’s a younger looking lad, a beanie on his head and a comfortable set of joggers and a hoodie on along with some plain black slip-on shoes. Liam plugs in next to him and they sit there on their phones for a while, sipping at their drinks, until another announcement comes over the speakers:

 _“Attention passengers of British Airlines flight zero-one-seven-five with service to New York:_  
_due to heavy ice buildup on the plane, the flight has once again been delayed._  
 _The new departure time for your flight is 2:10 pm._  
 _If this interferes with a connecting flight please see the nearest service desk for assistance. Thank you.”_

The lad next to Liam grumbles and kicks at a speck on the carpet. “Was that flight yours?” Liam asks.

“Yeah,” the lad replies. “I’m trying to get to New York for an audition, but looks like that might not be happening.”

Liam glances over and sees the way he’s watching the snow, lamenting its very existence. “An audition, that’s very impressive,” he says, trying to cheer him up. “I should ask your name now, maybe get a photo and an autograph before you become proper famous and have your own private jet. No chance of running into you at the airport again after that.”

It feels like overkill, like he’s trying too hard to cheer up this perfect stranger, but the smile he receives – albeit a bit condescending – is a smile nonetheless. “I’m Louis Tomlinson,” he says, extending his hand. “And I’ll never be getting that famous, so don’t you worry. Still plenty of chances to run into me again, I suppose.”

Liam reaches out to shake hands with him, and he replies, “I’m Liam Payne. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Yeah, likewise,” Louis nods.

Their hands and eyes linger for a few seconds too long before Louis is blushing and looking away, tucking some flyaways into his beanie to give him something to do with his hands. After an awkward pause in which Liam leans back in his chair and tries to figure out what just happened, Louis looks over at Liam and prods, “Well, I’ve told you why I’m here, now what about you?”

Liam smiles; it’s like a game with Louis, learning about each other, and he’s finding it to be rather amusing. “I’m on my way to Paris to see my fiancée. She’s finishing up her studies there,” he explains.

“Your girl’s French?” Louis asks.

“Nah,” Liam shakes his head. “Well, sort of I suppose. She’s got French relatives but she was born and raised in London. But she speaks French and adores Paris, so she chose to study there.”

“But not live there?”

Liam smiles fondly and explains, “No, not live there. She doesn’t want to be that far away from her parents, nor I from mine, honestly. Plus, I don’t know a single sentence of French.”

“I’ll bet you know _some_ ,” Louis teases. “Ever heard the song that goes ‘voulez-vous couches avec moi’?”

Liam bursts out laughing, head falling back and his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I have, but that’s not the kind of French I should go around speaking now, is it?” he says. “I can only get away with saying that to Sophia.”

Louis shrugs nonchalantly. “You could say it to far more people than her and get away with it. It just wouldn’t be the faithful thing to do,” he says matter-of-factly.

Liam looks over at Louis and raises an eyebrow. He’s quite impressed with this kid, but also intrigued by him and his sense of maturity. “How old are you, Louis?” he wonders.

That leads Louis to raise an eyebrow in response, because given the conversation they were just having, it seems a bit suspicious. Was Liam hitting on him? “I’m twenty-five, if you must know. Twenty-six in a few days.”

Liam’s eyebrows shoot up high. “You are? Well, that’s… wonderful.”

“You thought I was younger,” Louis deadpans.

“I…”

“It’s okay,” Louis says, defeated. “Lots of people do. I’m used to it, really.”

“Oh. Well, I’m sorry for upsetting you, if I have done,” he replies.

“Just tell me how old you are and we can call it even,” Louis shrugs, eyes focused down on his phone.

Liam is grateful he hasn’t annoyed Louis to the point of chasing away, but he’s clearly upset him or offended him in some way so he happily nods and obliges. “I’m twenty-four.”

“And your fiancé?” Louis asks bluntly.

With a soft chuckle, Liam says, “Twenty-three.”

“You’re not as old as you look,” Louis teases.

He’s got a look of amusement and hilarity on his face, and Liam understands – he’s not actually mad at the misunderstanding, nor is he trying to offend him. In fact, he seems to be messing around with him now. “You know what? I like you, Louis. You’re interesting,” Liam tells him, bemused.

“What fun would I be if I wasn’t?” Louis smirks in reply.

 

**11:00 AM**

Zayn Malik trudges through the drifting snow as he exits the shuttle train to Heathrow Airport, his thick black boots thudding against the pavement. He shakes the snow out of his face with the dark hair he’s left long atop his head, the sides shaved to give him an edgier look. He knows it wasn’t his wisest decision, seeing as he’s almost finished with his master’s program and will have to be looking for a professional job soon, but it was his last chance to have a say in his looks before he had to conform in order to really succeed.

Being an artist, he always wants to experiment with his appearance. He’s always getting a new tattoo or piercing somewhere. It’s like he’s making his own body the canvas. His friends dig it and usually a few of his uni friends even go with him. His mum frowns when she sees new additions but that frown usually disappears when he says he drew the design for the tattoo himself. Usually.

And usually Zayn’s not flying either, but his younger sister works for British Airways at their counter in Leeds airport now so she scored him a really cheap flight home. Now that he can save money by flying, he has no choice. He hasn’t exactly got pockets full of cash from being an artist.

It’s just that he’s not fond of flying. It makes him nervous and the way the planes feel when they’re landing and taking off leave his stomach a total mess. He gets so nervous and freaked out but feels like he can’t be. Once an old lady even told him he shouldn’t be scared, because if he can get tattoos and piercings, he can fly. But it’s apples and oranges to Zayn. There’s just something about being up in the air that leaves him feeling totally uneasy.

But he’s there anyway, queuing for check-in and then security. He braces himself for the inevitable extra time spent in security, and decides to just check his bag on his way, otherwise they’ll open that up and look through it at security, too.

Mentally, he’s just glad he remembered to shave. The cleaner and more refined he looks, the more respected he’ll be in this place.

 

**11:30 AM**

Out on the tarmac, flights are leaving and landing less frequently than usual. It’s getting icy outside, and the sleet and drifting snow isn’t helping. Plows seem to be constantly moving large mounds of the offending snow, but everyone is grateful that at least these flights are still moving instead of being cancelled.

One such flight coming in from Amsterdam is struggling to find a clear patch of runway on which to land. They’ve been circling the airport waiting for plows to clear enough space for them, but it’s clear to the flight attendants that the passengers are getting impatient.

A curly haired businessman immaculately dressed in tight striped pants, sparkling pointed-toe boots, and an embellished blazer sits in the front row of coach, thankful that he paid a few extra dollars for more leg room, because the flight has been nearly three hours now and his gangly legs can only handle being cramped up in a small space for so long. He’ll be heading out on a flight to Los Angeles in a few hours –assuming this flight can actually land – but he’s got time to stretch his legs in Heathrow before that happens. More time than he thinks, if the weather’s increased intensity is any sign.

Inside the terminal, Liam and Louis are still sitting together, waiting for news on this flight from Amsterdam, as it’s the plane Liam’s supposed to be getting on any minute in order to get to Paris. As they watch the departure board, they watch as various arrival times and departure times change, thanks to the weather. When the flight to Paris they’ve been eyeing up changes departure time, Liam groans. “Great, another delay,” he mumbles.

“It’s not a bad one,” Louis says conversationally before tipping back his cup, downing the last few dregs of tea. “Only like half an hour. Lucky.”

“Yeah,” Liam agrees, a smile on his face. He’s not quite sure how he would have spent his time waiting if he hadn’t found Louis. That was one part of packing that he’d overlooked. “I’m just ready to get to Paris, you know? Like, she has no idea I’m coming and maybe she’ll have no idea I even tried, the way today is going. But I really wanted to surprise her.”

“Hey, at least if she doesn’t know, she won’t be upset if you can’t make it or something like that,” Louis counters. “It’s better than having to let her down by telling her you can’t make it when you said you could, right?”

Liam nods; usually he’s the optimistic one, but he’s always been a downer when it comes to his dating life. He doesn’t want to let Sophia down – ever. At least he’s meant to surprise her – silver linings and all that.

“ I should probably still get off my lazy arse, yeah? Queue up before I miss the flight and get stranded here forever,” Liam laughs.

“I’ll come with you,” Louis offers, standing just as Liam does. He stretches, his shirt riding up to reveal his smooth tummy underneath. Liam has to force his eyes to look away. “I could use a good stretch, and besides… I don’t leave for a while yet.”

“Cheers, mate,” Liam replies with a bright smile.

They stand up and dispose of their empty Starbucks cups before slowly walking down the hallway of the terminal. “Have you ever been to Paris before?” Louis wonders.

“Just the once,” he says. “I came out here for a weekend to propose to her a few summers ago.”

“That long ago?” Louis asks, slightly confused.

“Yeah,” Liam nods. He notices the hint in Louis’s voice and adds, “We decided to save up while she’s finishing her schoolwork and then just… do the marriage and babies thing once she’s totally done with school. It’ll keep the stress off of her. We’ve pushed back the date a couple times, even.”

“Ah.”

Louis is quiet again, nothing but the hum of other passengers and the scratching of Liam’s suitcase wheels on the flooring between them. He has a lot of thoughts on delayed engagements – old memories he’d rather not dig up, if he’s being honest – but he keeps his mouth shut out of kindness for this new acquaintance of his.

“I hope the audition goes well,” Liam says as they make it the short way to the A20 seating area. They watch as the plane rolls towards the jet bridge through the blowing snow, and both Louis and Liam get a strange stirring in their stomachs.

Louis doesn’t want this friend of his to leave yet, and Liam… well, he always gets nervous before he flies out to see Sophia. He’s convinced that’s what it is. After all, it’s been a while since he last saw her. Sometimes he worries that she’s forgotten him, with how little they talk sometimes.

They take seats wherever they can find, which happen to be right by the door that’s opening up to let people off the incoming flight from Amsterdam. Louis is always amused, people watching like this, and he points out a few random people to Liam as they go. “Look at that girl right there. Sandals in winter?” he scoffs. “She’s going to regret those as soon as she steps outside.”

Liam chuckles and replies with something sweet but not so critical: “What if those are her only shoes? Or what if she’s en route to like… Australia? Honestly, Louis.”

“Oh my god,” he says, pointing to a man who is standing off to the side. “Is he wearing _sparkly boots_?”

Liam full-on laughs at this, and he can’t get over the look of absolute horror on Louis’s face. “He is indeed,” he nods.

“Christ,” Louis mutters. “D’you reckon he’s like… trying to be a woman or something?”

“ _Louis_ ,” Liam hisses. “That’s none of our business.” Liam’s not very well versed in the politically correct ways to address people who aren’t straight, but he tries his hardest to learn and understand.

Louis bites his lip and shrugs. “I was just asking. It’s not like I’ve got many friends in general, never mind non-straight friends,” he admits, though the flush on his cheeks says that he might know at least one person… even if it’s only himself. He glances at Liam and says, “You know what I meant. Do you think he’s trans, or that he’s just a bloke who likes sparkles, or…?”

As they’ve been talking they stopped actually looking at the boots, and didn’t even notice as the man moved away from his stationary spot before. That meant that by the time Louis rephrases his question, the lad is right there in front of them, his suitcase sitting at his side.

He looks to be a mixture of both offended and amused as he turns to look at them and clear his throat. “I tend to avoid labeling myself, but if you must know, it’s more like _pansexual_ rather than trans,” he says.

The way he watches Louis closely for a reaction makes Liam snicker at his side, and Louis looks up at this lad they’d just been openly discussing. His favorite part is that this lad, without any reservations, just quipped right back. “Right. Well… _sparkles_?” Louis asks, stammering for words.

It’s lame and he knows it – they _all_ know it – but he’s a bit speechless, having someone talk right back to him. The tall, gangly, sparkly-booted man sits down next to Louis on his other side and says, “I like them. Besides, you can’t expect much else from someone if they work in fashion, can you?”

Louis snickers this time, and Liam finds himself genuinely interested. “You work in fashion?”

“I’m a buyer,” he says casually. “My name is Harry, by the way. But yeah… I visit various designers and shops and choose what we put in the shop my sister runs with some friends.”

“That’s a thing?” Louis asks bluntly.

Harry laughs; his smile is sweet and innocent, his dimples giving him the air of being even younger than Liam thinks he is. “Yeah, it is,” Harry nods. “I go around to shops all over the world looking at their products. They pay me to do it, even.”

“That’s brilliant,” Liam says in awe. “Where are you going now?”

“Well, I was just in Amsterdam and found this great men’s clothing company who has exactly the type of trousers we’ve been lacking, but now I’m just waiting for my connection to go out to LA. There are at least half a dozen companies I’ll be visiting out there before coming home,” he explains.

“So this is home for you, then?” Liam asks.

“Yeah,” Harry nods. “It’s great. A bunch of us share the apartments above the shop. It’s not something I ever thought I’d be doing, but it’s brilliant because I get to travel and meet so many people.”

Liam can truly tell that this guy loves what he’s doing. “Good for you,” he says. “And now I just learned something new for the day. Thanks, Harry.”

“No problem,” Harry laughs. “I don’t think I ever caught your names…?”

He looks between them expectantly, but Louis seems a little petulant so he doesn’t answer. “I’m Liam and this is Louis,” Liam offers kindly.

“Are you two traveling together?”

“How old are you, Harry?” Louis interrupts.

Harry pauses for a moment, confused by the abrupt change in topic. “Uh… I’m twenty-two?” he says, putting it more like a question than an answer because he just doesn’t understand why his age would matter.

That seems to upset Louis a little more. Liam wonders if it’s because Harry’s so young and successful and Louis is still struggling to find work. But they’re totally different fields, and Liam would definitely point that out if any of this actually came up in conversation. “I’m going to surprise my fiancée in Paris,” Liam says, returning to Harry’s original topic to try to diffuse some of the awkwardness. “And Louis here is on his way to an audition.”

“An audition, really?” Harry asks excitedly. “Like, for Broadway?”

“For a TV show, actually, but yeah… a big audition. Assuming this weather lets me make it,” he pouts.

Harry looks crestfallen but nods. “I understand how you feel. If I don’t make these big meetings in LA I’m totally fucked,” he admits. “D’you know what flight you’re on to the states? Maybe we’re on the same one,” Harry tries.

“Mine’s delayed, so I doubt it,” he says, though he doesn’t sound as angry as he had earlier. “I’m headed to JFK at 2:10 this afternoon. It’s not a big enough audition to be held in LA.”

“Damn,” Harry pouts. “I’m… yeah, I’m flying to LA,” he says. “I’m on the 3:20 to LAX. And Liam?”

“I’m leaving soon, actually. I’ve just been delayed to 12:20 to Paris. I got in late this morning from Manchester so I missed my original flight. I should have been to Paris by now, actually,” he laughs.

“D’you want to get some food before your flight leaves?” Harry asks. “Both of you can join me. There’s Pret down the hall there, they’ve got great sandwiches.” Louis and Liam exchange glances, and Harry adds, “They’ll announce over the speakers when your flight is boarding, Liam. You won’t miss it.” Harry’s clearly an expert traveler; with his job being what it is, he’s constantly in and out of airports and different countries. Louis finds the thought of a life like that kind of exciting, but he wouldn’t know the first thing about doing Harry’s job.

“Sure,” Liam nods.

“Yeah, why not,” Louis agrees.

They all stand and wander down the hallway, back where Liam and Louis had been waiting for their flights earlier. Louis is the only one without a suitcase, and instead he just stuffs his hands into the pockets of his trackies. He looks young and like he doesn’t care, at least compared to the two professionals beside him. “So, we talked about my job, but what about you two? What do you do?” Harry asks as he surveys the different sandwich options at Pret, one of the only areas with food available in the small fifth terminal of Heathrow.

“I’m a fireman,” Liam says. “In Manchester.”

Harry’s eyes go comically wide and he’s clearly impressed. “Wow, really?” he asks. “Isn’t that scary?”

“I’m kind of a thrill seeker, so I guess it’s a good career for me?” he says modestly. “That’s what Sophia says, at least.”

“Is Sophia your fiancée?” Harry wonders.

“Yeah,” Liam nods with a fond smile on his face. “She’s great. Studying business and fashion marketing in Paris. She’ll be done this spring.”

“Good for her,” Harry smiles back. “I know a few names in the industry. I could give her an in if she ever needs,” he offers, to which Liam smiles.

Louis is still pouting, and he feels a little like a failure for not having the same accomplishments under his belt as Harry, Liam, and now apparently even Sophia. “What about you, Louis?” Harry asks as Liam orders his food. “What do you do?”

“I act, of course,” Louis says sarcastically.

“You get acting jobs?” Harry asks. “That’s brilliant!”

“I get auditions,” Louis sighs. He steps up to the counter and orders after Liam does. Once Harry’s done the same, he continues, “I babysit and I teach children’s football.”

He’s blushing and he’s clearly embarrassed to tell these near-strangers with far more successful lives what he does for a living, but they both look quite impressed. “You know, I always wanted to be a teacher,” Harry admits softly. “I mean… just getting to see kids learning new things and improving at the stuff you love… that’s got to be one of the most rewarding things ever, I bet.”

Louis shrugs. “It’s nothing official. Just city rec teams and such,” he says modestly.

“Oh, don’t be so down on yourself,” Liam insists. “Teaching is brilliant. It’s so selfless and kind. Like… good on you, mate.”

Louis is even redder in the cheeks now, but he has to admit that he’s always been sort of proud that he’s managed to become a teacher of something even though he’s never had the marks to go to school for it. “Thanks,” he says lamely before looking away as their food was handed to them.

It’s quiet after that; Louis feels bashful for having opened up to these strangers the way he did. They don’t seem to think anything of it though, or if they do they’re not letting on.

As they find their seats back by Liam’s gate once again, things dissipate and Louis lets the previous conversation go. Now they’re eating happily and Louis feels far more relaxed. Harry’s telling terrible jokes, which only help him forget even more until he doesn’t care one bit that he’s told these strangers so much about himself.

 

**12:00 PM**

Zayn’s surprised at how little time he has to spend at security. Apparently there’s enough chaos happening in the airport that they can’t be bothered to accuse him of being a terrorist. He hates the way that mindset has leaked into other countries, making it difficult for him to travel anywhere without accusations from foreigners.

As he wanders down the hallway, Zayn sees the flight information boards and pauses at the sight of so many red _DELAYED_ messages. He pauses, searching the board for his flight.

Zayn breathes a sigh of relief when he finds his flight and sees that it’s on time; he really just wants to get this flight done and over with so he can get home, see his family, and get the scariest part of his trip over with. He wheels his small carry-on down the hallway even further, seeking out his gate. It’s down in the corner of the terminal, and he’s thankful for that. There’s plenty of seating and a coffee stand right there.

He orders a double espresso and looks around, sipping it slowly as he takes in the sight of so many angry or frazzled travelers. The way they’re acting outwardly is how he feels inwardly. Zayn’s never been one to express much emotion in public; he hates making a scene or drawing attention to himself. In fact, his goal in public places is often to be invisible.

Zayn decides that with a little bit of time to kill, he’s going to wander around, so he sets off down the hallway. As he does, he bumps into a smiling blonde man, freckled and on his way in the same direction as Zayn. “Woops, sorry there,” he says.

Irish accent, Zayn notes. “It’s alright,” he replies.

“You going this way too?”

Zayn’s not expecting this perfect stranger to make conversation with him, and he’s never been all that fond of small talk, but he goes with it. “Nah, my flight’s back there. But I’ve got time to kill so I was going to wander around,” he explains.

“You’re going to piss some people off, walking in their way,” the man laughs. “I’ve never understood why people get here late and then get annoyed at people because they’re not moving fast enough. Give yourself some time here, people!”

Zayn laughs; this guy is kind of cool and he’s definitely amusing. “Yeah, I don’t fly much but people are always in a hurry,” Zayn offers. “It’s annoying.”

“I’m Niall,” the blonde says, offering his hand to Zayn.

Zayn pauses where he’s walking and shakes it before he says, “Zayn.”

“And where are you headed, Zayn?”

“Home to Bradford,” he explains. “I don’t usually fly, but my sister works for British Airlines and got me a wicked discount so here I am.”

Niall points over towards his gate and asks, “D’you wanna have a seat?”

Zayn nods and follows, taking the chair right next to Niall’s. “Are you going to Ireland then?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Niall nods. “Me mum and dad are out there still, and all my family really. I just work in London because there are more jobs in my field here.”

“Yeah? What do you do?” Zayn asks. He’s incredibly self-conscious about his ability to make small talk but he feels like he’s doing okay. This Niall bloke seems to still want to chat, so that’s a good sign.

“I’m a sound engineer,” he explains. “One day I’ll be recording and mixing artists’ music but for now I’m at the bottom of the food chain. Setup, take down, and drink and snack duty.”

“Ouch,” Zayn laughs at the face Niall’s pulling in response to what he’s saying.

“Right?” Niall laughs back. “It’s not my favorite thing in the world but I guess if I want to move up the ranks I have to start where I’m at. Or so everyone keeps telling me.”

“Hey, as long as you’re getting a paycheck, right?” Zayn shrugs. “That’s more than I’ll be able to say once I graduate.”

“Oh yeah? What are you studying?” Niall asks.

“Art history,” Zayn says. “It’s nothing fancy or promising but it’s what I like, and I’m good at it, so…” He trails off awkwardly, but Niall’s smiling.

“You’re an artist? That’s brilliant!” he exclaims. He points to the tattoos on Zayn’s arms and says, “These make a lot more sense. Did you draw any of these yourself?”

Zayn smiles, relieved that Niall’s not another one of those who will criticize him for choosing a “dead profession” as so many call it, and starts to explain the origins of some of his tattoos. They become engrossed in it until they hear an announcement from the gate next to where they’re sitting:

_“We are now boarding for British Airways flight one-three-seven-one with service to Paris, France at gate A20.  
Please line up with your boarding pass and passport in hand. Thank you.”_

Zayn and Niall look over, and Niall snickers a little as he says, “That blokes got on sparkly boots. What the hell?”

“They look good on him,” Zayn concedes, though he has to admit he’s never seen such a sight before.

Harry’s giving Liam a hug goodbye, and Louis is standing awkwardly next to him. He wants to hug him, but feels guilty given that he’s been checking him out _a lot_ in the past few minutes. Liam’s quite fit, with his quiff and his muscles and his slight shadow of scruff on his face. He wonders if Sophia likes that, the scruff, or if Liam’s just forgotten to shave. Louis blushes as he reminds himself that _he_ loves men that look just like Liam – scruff and all.

But Liam’s going in for a hug so Louis resigns himself to it, closing his eyes as he lets the hug linger, arms wrapped tight around his torso. He smells good, like expensive cologne. Louis wonders if it’s stuff that Sophia got him in Paris. He thinks that if he were around a man who smelled like this every day, he’d never want to let go of him.

When they finally step away, Harry’s watching them with a weird look in his eye, like he noticed how long the hug lasted or the way Louis closed his eyes and buried his face in Liam’s shoulder just a little bit. “It was nice meeting you both,” Liam says, nodding to them one more time.

“You too,” Harry smiles.

“Yeah,” Louis nods. “Save travels.”

“Thanks,” Liam replies. “Same to you guys.”

He waves as he steps into line, and it’s only a few people before he’s scanning his own boarding pass and disappearing onto the jet bridge and out of sight. Louis knows he should probably go find his gate now, thinks that maybe Harry has better things to be doing than lounging around with someone as unsuccessful (and underdressed) as him.

“So Louis,” Harry begins with a big smile. “Why don’t you and I go have a drink?”

Louis turns to Harry, eyebrow raised. “A drink? At noon?”

“Yeah,” Harry nods. “That’s the luxury of drinking in an airport. Everyone’s coming from somewhere and nobody knows what time it is because for all they know, you’ve just come from across the globe and it feels like nighttime. Nobody judges you here. So what do you say?”

Louis frowns. He wants to, but at the same time he feels like he’s not good enough to hang out with someone as young and successful as Harry.

“If it’s money you’re worried about, don’t. It’s on me. I’ll put it on my travel expenses. The companies that pay me to travel don’t even look at that sort of thing,” Harry offers. “Besides, I’ve had far more drinks at one of those than the two of us are going to have this afternoon, so it won’t look suspicious.”

Louis can tell that there’s no way to argue out of this. And part of him doesn’t want to, because Harry is so kind. “Yeah, okay,” he agrees, his voice soft.

“Don’t worry so much around me,” Harry says, nudging Louis as they start moving down the hall. “I am the least judgmental person you will ever meet. And I can get along with anyone.”

With a roll of his eyes, Louis says, “Someone’s cocky.”

“Just confident,” Harry corrects.

He pushes his long, curly hair out of his face and points Louis towards the champagne bar down by gate A16, back where he’d started. “You really are something else,” Louis comments as they sit down at the bar.

“I try to be,” Harry smiles, dimples deep as he looks at Louis so happily.

Harry orders a drink without a care in the world, and the bartender turns to Louis. “Well Harry, any suggestions?” he asks, challenging him.

“What’s your usual drink?” Harry asks.

“Straight whiskey,” Louis replies.

Harry looks over the drink menu for a moment before ordering a drink that Louis has never heard of before. It doesn’t take long before the bartender is sliding them across the bar to them and Louis takes a long, hard look at his before he asks, “What is this?”

It doesn’t look frilly or fruity the way Harry’s does; it’s not in a stemmed glass like his, and it’s certainly not pastel coloured. It’s dark and on ice and it looks really good. “Just try it,” Harry urges. “Trust me.”

Louis slowly brings the glass to his lips and tips it back, taking just a small sip at first. It’s sweeter than he expects, considering it looks like straight liquor, and he can’t help but wonder if there’s actually any alcohol in it at all. “Well?” Harry asks.

“I don’t know how you did it, but I like it,” Louis concedes. “Well done.”

Harry’s smile brightens and he holds up his glass. “Cheers,” he says happily.

Louis might want to stay reserved around these strangers that are far more successful than he is, but with Harry he can’t help it. He grins brighter than the sun and holds up his own glass. “Cheers,” he nods in response.

They both take a drink after that, and Louis feels more relaxed than he has all morning. “So Louis,” Harry begins after a big sip. “Tell me more about you.”

“There’s not much to know,” he shrugs simply. Louis pushes some of his fringe back into his beanie and says, “I told you guys what I do and where I’m going. That’s basically my life in a nutshell.”

Harry scoffs. “That’s not true,” he says. “I saw the way you got with Liam there, when he was saying goodbye.” Louis looks away sharply and Harry knows he’s treading on dangerous ground. He decides to settle upon a safe question: “Are you seeing anyone, Louis?”

“Nope,” Louis says sharply, his voice tight. He’s not looking over at Harry, and instead has decided to stare intently at his drink.

Harry senses there’s a story there, so he elbows him gently and asks, “What’s the matter? Is that a banned topic? Relationships, I mean.”

His voice is low and soothing and Harry’s got this air to him that makes Louis feel like he can trust him with literally anything – his life, even. Louis looks around the airport, takes another big swig of his drink, and then says, “Not banned. Just not my favourite.”

He’s tight lipped and tense and Harry senses it, so he drops the subject. “Noted. I’m sorry I’ve upset you,” he offers.

Louis glances over, and Harry genuinely looks apologetic. He shrugs and says, “You didn’t know. Don’t worry about it.”

Harry looks unsure, but he nods, accepting the answer for what it is. Louis isn’t as much of an open book as he’d first thought he was, and that leaves Harry feeling both intrigued and sad; he never thought he’d find himself so worried about the feelings of a stranger but Louis has been through things, Harry can tell. Now he just has to figure out how to help.

 

**12:30 PM**

Liam’s stomach is in knots at the idea of going to Paris to surprise his fiancée Sophia. Now that he’s actually on the plane – even in a comfortable first class seat thanks to the kind woman at the counter – he’s getting really anxious and scared. He hasn’t heard from Sophia in days… he’s wondering if it’s exams or if she’s forgotten about him. She always promises she’d never do such a thing, but Liam’s always doubted how valuable he is to other people.

The plane isn’t going anywhere yet and the snow is really picking up outside; Liam can hardly see the men loading luggage onto the plane as he waits. He’s glad he brought his as a carry-on. That’s one less thing for those people outside to have to deal with. A flight attendant is walking to the bridge, back to the flight attendant’s little closet, and then peeking into the cockpit with a look on her face that fills Liam with worry.

Sure enough, it’s hardly five minutes later when she’s announcing over the speakers:

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have just received word from air traffic control that it is unsafe for us to take off on our trajectory at this point in time. Due to weather, this flight has been cancelled. We ask you all to calmly gather your things and proceed back to the gate where our staff will do their best to get you rescheduled so that you can arrive to Paris in a timely manner. Thank you very much for your understanding.”

Liam knows it’s going to be chaos, and sure enough there is some angry shouting, but the attendants are calmly wrangling passengers in order to let those in the first class seats de-plane first. Liam feels like he doesn’t deserve the higher level of service that comes with a first class ticket.

As quickly as he can, he gathers his bag from the compartment above and carries it out onto the jet bridge. Once he’s there and has more space, he pulls out the handle and wheels it behind him. He walks out and doesn’t see Harry or Louis anywhere; he’s not quite sure where they’ve gotten to but they all exchanged numbers so he might give them a call a little later once he’s gotten on a new flight.

As he’s waiting in the queue of angry people at the counter, he hears another announcement come over the speakers:

 _“Attention passengers of British Airlines passengers with flights departing westward: please check departure boards._  
_Many westward flights have been delayed due to weather._  
 _If a delay interferes with a connecting flight please see the nearest service desk for assistance. Thank you.”_

Zayn looks up as he hears the number of his flight; there are very few flights to Leeds-Bradford airport that leave from Heathrow each day so he’s hoping it’s not a cancellation. Thankfully it’s only a delay, and he lets out an anxious breath he’d been holding. “Y’alright?” Niall asks.

“Yeah,” Zayn nods. “Yours is delayed too, right?”

“Yeah. I wonder what’s going to happen out there? They’ve got the weather up over there,” Niall says, pointing to an information kiosk not far from where they’re seated. “Want to go look?”

Zayn’s comfortable, sitting around in his relaxed jeans and a tee shirt, but he nods because he should probably have a look at what’s coming. For all he knows, it’s far worse where he’s going than where he currently is. He nods, and they slowly get up to wander over to the kiosk.

“Must be a bad one,” Niall says as he looks up for the right screen.

Zayn’s already spotted the weather radar, and he replies, “The worst hasn’t even gotten here yet.”

On the screen, there are huge patches of snow coming their way. The colors are deeper, signifying greater snowfall, and the wind isn’t helping matters any. It looks as though they’ve only gotten about a quarter of the storm, if that, and it’s all headed directly for London. “Shit,” Niall mutters, smile fading as he looks at the radar.

They both stand there for a moment, because the realization has just settled upon them that they’re probably not going anywhere that afternoon.

“Yeah,” Zayn nods, staring at the screen just like Niall. “Shit.”

Back at the counter, Liam is trying his hardest to get onto the next flight to Paris. He’s starting wonder if maybe this isn’t a sign, that maybe he’s supposed to just go back to Manchester and wait for Sophia to come home. But the problem is that if he’s not there to bring her back with him, who knows if she’ll come? She meant to come see him in August for his birthday but never did; he’s starting to worry that he’ll never see her again.

The queue feels like it’s taking forever, but maybe that’s because there are hardly any spots left on planes leaving to Paris due to all the delays and cancellations so far. He puts on his best smile, even though at this point it’s a bit strained, and he says, “I’ve just got to get to Paris.”

“Easier said than done,” the woman at the counter says. It’s clear she’s stressed and unhappy at the situation. Liam can’t say he blames her much.

He’s quiet, deciding that maybe his charm isn’t needed right now; this lady probably just wants to help him and move on to the next person as fast as possible. She types away until finally she says, “Having a first class ticket is saving you a lot of trouble today. We’ve got one first class seat on the 7:45 pm flight to Paris. If you were flying coach you’d be waiting until tomorrow night.”

Liam wants to correct her and explain that he’d only paid for a coach ticket, but he’s itching to get to Paris to see Sophia so he zips his mouth. One little omission won’t be that bad, right? He smiles and says, “Thank you very much for your help.”

“You’re welcome,” she replies, her own forced smile upon her face. “This flight leaves at 7:45 from gate A19, just right next to us. The number is zero-three-two-six… you’ll want to remember that with all these announcements and cancellations. Good luck with your travels, Mr. Payne.”

“Alright, thanks so much,” he says, taking his new ticket. Then he steps out of the way before he can hold up the line any longer with the small talk he knows is right on the tip of his tongue.

When he steps away, he wants to find the nearest screen with the weather on it. He spots one with only a few people standing in front of it and decides to inch up next to it. “Well shit,” he mutters, seeing the huge storm aimed right at London.

“Our thoughts exactly, mate,” a blonde man says as he steps aside to give Liam a better look. He’s got a thick Irish accent and there’s a quieter, dark haired man by his side.

“You two delayed too?” Liam wonders.

The dark haired man nods and the blonde says, “Yep. Me later than him, but we’re delayed. You?”

“Just had to de-plane. They cancelled the flight after we were all on the plane and settled in,” he explains. “So now I have to wait until a quarter to eight tonight.”

“Good luck, mate,” the blonde says. “Dunno if that’s gonna happen, what with all the snow still on its way.”

“Yeah,” Liam nods. “I’m a little worried about that, to be honest.”

“I’m Niall,” the blonde says, offering his hand. “And this here is Zayn.”

Liam shakes their hands, surprised at the abundance of friendly people in the airport that day. He’s always had in his head the idea that everyone in an airport is impatient and rude, but that’s definitely not the case. He thinks maybe he should fly more often.

“Are you two traveling together, then?” Liam wonders as he pulls out his phone.

He taps out a quick text message to Harry and Louis, wondering if they’re still around the airport somewhere. “No, we just ran into each other… literally,” Niall laughs. “I’m headed back to Dublin and his flight’s meant to take him to Leeds.”

“Heading home for the holidays, then?” Liam asks.

They step aside as a harassed looking family steps up to look at the weather radar, and Zayn says, “Yeah, I’m on break from uni and Niall’s well… I dunno, really.”

“Just going home to see family. I work in London,” he explains.

Liam’s phone buzzes and he says, “Well, I hope you two lads get home. It wouldn’t be fun to be trapped here for the holidays. Excuse me for a minute.” He holds up his phone and swipes at the screen so he can read the messages.

_Harry: At champagne bar…. Join us!_

“Listen… a few other blokes I met earlier this morning are over at the champagne bar. Fancy coming with me? We can sit down, have a drink, waste some time before the next flight?” Liam asks.

Niall looks over at Zayn, who shrugs in reply. “Sure,” Niall grins. “Let’s do it.”

With that, the three of them gather their things and head off for the champagne bar, Liam in the lead. He spots Harry and Louis easily, what with Louis’s loud, bright laughter and Harry’s striped pants and tall figure on the barstool. “Hey guys. Found a few more stragglers, thought they could use a drink too,” Liam says as he walks up. “Harry, Louis, this is Niall and Zayn. Zayn and Niall, meet Harry and Louis.”

Everyone greets each other with varied amounts of enthusiasm before settling in at the bar. The bartender turns to ask what everyone would like and Harry says, “First round is on me, lads.”

“Harry’s great with drink recommendations,” Louis adds enthusiastically.

And maybe it’s because his drink had far more liquor in it than he realized and he’s pleasantly buzzing, or maybe it’s because behind all the fancy clothes and charming smiles Louis likes the man he’s managed to bring out through conversation, but he’s in a really good mood. All his previous trepidations are behind him and he’s actually having a good time while he waits for his flight, even if Harry is still a near stranger to him.

“I’ll just hang out,” Zayn says. “I’m boarding in a few minutes.”

“You think your flight is still gonna take off?” Louis asks.

Zayn shrugs noncommittally. He’s not really sure if it will or not, but he has hope. “I mean, they haven’t cancelled it yet so there’s still a chance.”

Flights are coming in and leaving rather slowly, so Zayn’s full of doubt, but he doesn’t want to let that on to a perfect stranger. He’s so full of fear in general that he’s resolved to just keep his mouth shut. Instead he orders a glass of water and sips at it while everyone else starts chatting.

Just as Niall and Liam are getting their drinks, Zayn hears the announcement that his flight is preparing for boarding. “That’s me, guys,” he says, awkwardly standing from his seat so he can make his way to the gate.

“It was nice to meet you,” Louis says coyly over the rim of his glass.

“Yes, a pleasure,” Harry smiles, extending his hand to shake with Zayn.

Zayn shakes his hand but his eyes drift back over to Louis as he nods at him. Then he turns to Liam, who gives him a friendly hug. “Thanks for keepin’ me company, Zayn,” Niall smiles.

His smile make Zayn’s chest tighten and suddenly he wishes he’d gotten this blokes number or something. “Yeah, no problem,” he says with a nod. “Thanks to you too, for y’know… keeping me company.”

He smiles, albeit a bit awkwardly, and nods one final goodbye before wandering off to the other side of the shops so he can get to his gate. The line’s already dwindling down thanks to the time spent saying goodbye, and now Zayn’s stomach is in knots at the prospect of flying in the blowing snow he can see outside the windows.

As soon as he gets to the gate, there’s a message on the screen behind the ticket counter that yet again, his flight has been delayed. If Zayn hadn’t already spent his money on a plane ticket, he’d probably turn around and take the train to Bradford. But as it is, he’s nearly broke now, and he doesn’t fancy going out in the snow when he’s not dressed for it.

Frustrated, he turns back toward the bar where the others are, and as he does, he runs into Louis. “Hey, what are you doing?” he asks as he approaches.

Louis pockets his cell phone and looks up at the departure board. “I called me mum, and I wanted to see what the weather was doing,” he explains. “You alright?”

“Delayed again,” Zayn explains. He’s frustrated with it and heaves a heavy sigh. “I wish I’d bought a train ticket instead.”

“I understand, mate,” Louis nods.

“Today is dragging on forever,” Zayn grumbles. “I feel like I’ve been here for ages.”

Louis nods and says, “I know how you feel. I left Doncaster at five o’clock this morning.”

Zayn sighs. He really just wants to go home to see his family. “Hey, let’s go get us some more drinks, yeah? The other lads are at the bar still. You can get a proper drink,” Louis suggests.

It’s probably not the greatest idea, Zayn thinks to himself, but he’s got time to burn so he nods and follows Louis back towards the others. “Zayn!” Niall shouts as soon as he sees him. “You’re still here!”

“Yeah, by the time I got to the gate, they’d delayed it until tonight,” Zayn explains.

“That makes sense; it looks brutal out there,” Liam says. “I could literally feel the wind when I was getting on and off my flight. Like the gates they’ve got us walking through couldn’t seal out the wind, it was that bad.”

Harry looks up at the TV above the bar and says, “Yeah, it looks really awful. Look at that up there.”

There’s a news story on the screen about a pile up on a large motorway caused by whiteout conditions from all the blowing snow. Zayn feels a knot twist in his stomach because how on earth is he supposed to fly home in this? It’s terrifying, and he doesn’t like flying, and the weather makes him uneasy. “Hey, relax,” Louis says, patting his back. “You’re not flying out for _hours_ now. There’s plenty of time for this to move past us before you’re back up in the air.”

“Yeah, you’re not the next one getting on a plane,” Niall laughs as he slides a rum and coke over to Zayn. “Just have a drink and relax.”

Zayn nods, and he’s grateful that he’s found such good people to pass the time within the airport.

 

**2:00 PM**

_“Attention passengers of British Airlines flight zero-one-seven-five with service to New York:_  
_due to the weather, this flight has been cancelled._  
 _Please see the nearest service desk for assistance in rescheduling your flight. Thank you.”_

“Oh fucking hell.”

Louis is glaring at nobody in particular as he sets down his glass with a loud thud. “Shit,” Niall mumbles, looking over at him.

“That was your flight, wasn’t it?” Harry asks.

With a nod, Louis stands up and lets out a heavy sigh. “I should get to a counter, try to reschedule…” he mutters.

He looks dejected and disappointed as he steps away from the bar. “I’ll come with you,” Liam offers, standing with him.

Louis shakes his head, but Liam’s already ushering him away to a counter. The line is long and Louis heaves another sigh. “I might as well just try to get back to Doncaster,” Louis frowns. “There’s no way I can make it to the audition now.”

“When is it?” Liam asks.

“Tomorrow afternoon,” Louis says. “I wanted to get there and actually be able to _sleep_ but it looks like that’s not going to be possible. I can’t just go into this without any preparation.”

“I’m sure you can,” Liam insists. “You seem pretty put together. Plus, you can always rehearse here.”

“Liam, I’m twenty-five, still living with my mum, and it took me a year to save up enough to fly to New York for a decent audition,” Louis snaps. “There’s no way I’m put together.”

“But you must be confident about your skills if you’re going all the way to New York for an audition,” Liam counters.

Louis wants to glare at Liam but he’s too exhausted. “Look, you don’t get it. I’m not…” he stops and shakes his head. “I’m not confident. I’m not put together. This isn’t easy for me. I’ve sort of failed at everything I’ve tried so far so it’s not like this is going to work out. It’s just… my last chance.”

Liam’s watching Louis closely with a big frown etched deep onto his face. He understands last chances, for sure. He pats Louis’s back and says, “Well… I think you’ll make it, and that you’ll do great at the audition.”

This doesn’t get any sort of reaction out of Louis and Liam’s not what sure to make of it. There’s harsh snapping of sleet against the windows of the airport and off to one side there are harrowed-looking passengers stepping off the jet bridge. “Lucky them, getting where they’re going,” Louis mumbles.

“Not quite,” someone says from the line next to them. “They had to make an emergency stop. They were on their way to Paris but had to land because the storm was so bad.”

“The worst of it’s over us though, isn’t it?” someone else in line asks.

“There’s a whole line of them, all the way through Europe!” the first person replies.

Louis lets out an indignant huff and shakes his head because he cannot believe this is happening. He should have known better than to think this would work out, Louis realizes. By the time he gets up to the counter, he’s indifferent to basically everything. Liam wants to be there for some sort of support but he and Louis barely know each other; he’s not quite sure what he’s supposed to do to make it better.

Louis ends up taking a slip for an 8:05 standby flight even though he’s not happy about it. “Look… why don’t we just go down to that pub at the other end of the terminal, yeah?” Liam suggests. “Just you and me. We’ll get a couple pints and a plate of chips… take your mind off of things.”

Warily, Louis looks up at Liam as they stand off to the side of the counter. Louis is stuffing his receipt in his pocket and he’s seriously considering trying to get home. “As much as I’d love that, I…” Louis begins awkwardly.

“It’s on me,” Liam insists.

Louis frowns, but nods and follows Liam down the hallway of the terminal.

 

**2:30 PM**

After Louis and Liam left to go get Louis a new ticket, the three remaining sat at the bar and continued sipping at their drinks. “I can’t believe how bad it’s getting out there,” Harry says incredulously. “It was beautiful when I left Amsterdam this morning.”

“I haven’t seen a storm this bad since I was a kid back in Dublin. Had an amazing time out in the snow, I’m tellin’ ya. All grown up it’s not as fun now,” Niall laughs.

_“We are now boarding for British Airways flight zero-eight-three-six with service to Dublin at gate A22.  
Please line up with your boarding pass in hand. Thank you.”_

“Hey, isn’t that you mate?” Zayn asks, pointing to him with his drink in hand.

Niall looks both excited and nervous as he says, “Yeah, that’s me. Didn’t think it’d actually be flying.”

“I hope it’ll all be okay,” Harry says earnestly. “I haven’t seen many planes moving outside.”

“That’s because the snow’s too bloody thick to see through,” Zayn adds.

Niall pales a little, but he says, “They wouldn’t fly if it wasn’t safe, right? And it’s just Dublin… not too far away.”

There’s an uncomfortable silence as they all think about what Niall’s about to do. “Alright,” Harry says finally. “Drink up. Let’s go to the gate, give him some moral support.”

With a hum of agreement they all tip their glasses back and drink down the last of what was left in their cups. Then without a word, they stand up together, grab their bags if they’ve got any, and start walking towards Niall’s gate. The whole way down they’re quiet, looking out the windows at the crazy snowstorm bearing down on London.

“They wouldn’t fly if it was unsafe,” Harry reassures Niall as they reach the gate.

Niall nods and looks at Harry first, then over at Zayn. “It was really nice t’meet you guys,” Niall says. “Thanks for keepin’ me company here, and all that.”

Harry beams, dimples deep as he does, and Zayn flashes him a smile as well. They wave as he walks towards the doorway to board the plane before looking to each other with slight awkwardness. “Well…” Harry begins. “D’you fancy a cuppa?”

Zayn nods and says softly, “Sure.”

The airport is bursting at the seams with people now. There are tons of staff at all the food stands, probably working extra or stranded due to the influx of stranded passengers, and Zayn and Harry have to stand in line for a long time. By the time they reach the counter, there’s a voice shouting for them down the corridor.

Zayn’s first to glance over and he’s greeted with the sight of Niall bounding down the hallway. “What are you doing?” he asks. “Aren’t you supposed to be boarding?”

“They cancelled the flight after the first class seats boarded,” Niall explains. “I’m stranded here just like you lot.”

“When’s your next flight?” Harry asks, nudging Zayn to order while handing his credit card to the employee, already taking the bill for them.

He checks the ticket in his hand and then replies, “Eight fifty-five tonight.”

“Well, grab a drink, then,” Harry smiles warmly. “It’s on me.”

Niall nods and says, “Cheers,” before he steps up after Zayn to order a coffee as well.

They’re not sure where Liam and Louis have gotten to, but for all they know, the two of them could still be waiting in line for a new ticket after Louis’s flight was cancelled. Air traffic over Europe is a mess.

Once they get their coffees, Harry leads them to his gate, A23, and they all sit down in the only seats that are still open: right next to the window. There’s a bit of a chill from the draft, the wind blowing so heavy that even a new terminal leaks in some cold air, but the three of them are comfortable with their warm coffee.

“So Zayn, what is it you do?” Harry asks conversationally.

Niall’s already heard it all, but he’s quiet and patient as Zayn explains, “I’m an art history student. I’m not really sure what I’m going to do with that, but I’ll figure it out, I guess.”

“That’s brilliant,” Harry smiles. “What’s your favourite medium to work with?”

“Spray paint is what I like to use most often, but otherwise sketching with charcoal,” he replies.

“Do you sell your art?” Harry asks.

Zayn shrugs. “Only to friends. They like buying my sketches and taking them to tattoo artists to get them done. Sometimes I do custom things for them, too.”

Harry’s whole face brightens as he asks, “Really? That’s brilliant. Have you ever considered being a tattoo artist?”

Zayn waves it off with a casual brush of his hand. “I’m not that good,” he says.

“Here, wait-,” Harry says. He’s the only one with his luggage, and he digs inside the case to pull out a folder with some scraps of paper and a pencil. “Draw me something. A butterfly.”

“Like, a little one?”

“No, something big. Lots of details.”

Zayn looks confused at why a _butterfly_ of all things is what Harry wants him to draw, but he has no problem getting into sketching again. It comes naturally to him, and as he’s getting really involved in his drawing, Harry turns to Niall and asks, “What about you? What is it you do?”

“I’m a sound engineer. If I put up with the grunt work long enough, I should be able to be the one doing recording in music studios,” Niall laughs.

“Are you based in London?” Harry asks.

Niall nods. “It’s not as great as it sounds right now, though. Me and the other new hire, we sit around a lot waiting for people to tell us what to do. It’s not glamorous.”

“So you like music then?” Harry asks, deflecting the self-deprecating statements from Niall.

“I’ve played guitar and sang my whole life. It’s just that jobs are easier to come by as an engineer,” Niall says. “And they’re not even that easy to come by. I got lucky, landing this job.”

“Sounds like you’re very talented,” Harry smiles.

He’s good at that, ignoring the bad things people say about themselves and what they love. Rather, he chooses to focus on the stuff that’s good, the stuff that’ll put a smile on their face when they talk about it. Niall thinks it’s sweet, and not something he sees in many people anymore.

“I do okay,” Niall smiles.

“So are you going back to Ireland for work?”

Niall shakes his head and his smile fades. “I wish,” he replies. “I’m going back to see me family for the holidays. I miss them like crazy. I’m always so busy working I never see them anymore.”

“Well, have you got flat mates or something?” Harry asks. “When I miss home, I always go spend time with them and it’s better.”

“No, I have a tiny flat all to meself,” Niall explains. “Gets pretty lonely.”

Harry’s quiet as he nods and says, “Well, we might have a room opening up. We’ve got some flats that we’ve sort of opened up so they’re all like a big apartment. Lots of social spaces. I could give you a call if that happens? We’d love to have you. I could use some more men around the place.”

“How many are there?”

“Me.”

Niall bursts out laughing and nods as he says, “Yeah, I think that sounds alright. You have a phone? I could give you my number and you could call me if something opens up.”

Harry smiles and gives his phone to Niall, who types in his information quickly. “If nothing opens up, it’s fine,” Niall says casually. “Don’t kick anyone out on account of me.”

“Don’t worry,” Harry smiles. “I’m not the type to kick people out.”

“Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me.”

They smile warmly at each other, and Niall suddenly feels all the anxiety of whether he’ll get to Dublin on time leaving his body. Harry’s got a way about him that puts Niall at ease. Chatting with Niall is putting Harry at ease as well, which is good because the next announcement over the loudspeakers is one that fills him with tension.

Harry doesn’t often curse, but he’s very close to it when he hears that his flight is delayed. He takes a deep breath, looks down at Zayn’s drawing, and smiles. He’s an expert at distracting himself, as he often feels like he’s alone and only got him in a house full of women where he lives. “That’s brilliant, mate,” he says to Zayn, who has now scooted onto the floor to sit with his back to the legs of Harry and Niall’s chairs.

“Thanks,” Zayn says, caught up in the work he’s doing. He likes having busy work to do, especially when he’s in need of distraction. “What d’you want this for, anyway?”

“A tattoo,” he smiles. “I’m thinking big and bold, right on my stomach.”

Niall bursts out laughing and Zayn grins as he says, “Stomach? Interesting choice.”

“I like to be unique,” Harry grins. “Besides, it’ll be a nice conversation piece.”

“D’you wear your shirts unbuttoned all the time?” Niall asks.

“More than you’d expect,” Harry replies with a smirk.

Zayn’s laughing as he shades part of the wing he’s working on, and he’s grateful for Harry’s attempt to cheer them up and distract them.

Harry pulls an iPad out of his suitcase next, and he hands it over to Niall as he asks, “D’you play piano, too? I’ve got one installed on here.”

“I know a little, yeah,” Niall smiles.

“Well, play something. Sing, too,” Harry prompts.

Niall looks shy, but he happily obliges. He starts tapping away a few chords on the iPad and soon starts in with some soft singing. It’s hardly able to be heard over the buzz of angry passengers and crying children, but for the three of them it’s incredibly comfortable.

Harry listens to Niall’s rough but melodic voice for a while, and then quietly joins him with soft humming in the background, complementing his voice. Zayn, whilst shivering from his spot on the floor where drafts from outside are leaking in under the seats, joins as well, and eventually they’re all singing in three part harmony once they pick up the words that Niall’s singing.

There’s a small circle of people around them who’ve paused to listen. Niall’s chosen Christmas songs, ones he’s known since he was a kid, and they’re all oblivious to the eyes that are upon them as they sing. Zayn’s the first to notice, his cheeks red as he looks up, finished with his drawing. An elderly woman is smiling at them, her husband holding her hand as they listen.

As the song comes to an end, Niall and Harry look up as well, and they’re all greeted with the sound of applause. Harry can’t help but beam, his smile wide and his dimples deep, and Niall’s looking flushed as he realizes they had an audience.

A small girl runs up with some money in her hand and holds it out to Zayn. “Thank you for singing,” she says. She’s got blonde curly pigtails and the brightest blue eyes they’ve ever seen. She’s wearing a red jumper and black leggings, and her shoes are red and sparkly as well. “Mummy and daddy are sad we’re not going to be in Dublin tonight for Christmas,” she explains, her Irish accent evident. “Could you sing us another, please? It’s making them smile.”

Niall looks up to see two very stressed parents watching her, and she’s obviously theirs. The girl is the spitting image of the woman watching them. “What’s your name?” Niall asks.

She holds up the money to him, instead, and he takes it as she says, “I’m Aoife O’Callahan.”

“I’m Niall Horan, and I’m sad I won’t be in Dublin tonight for Christmas, too,” he tells her. “What song would you like us to sing?”

“Do you know Good King Wenceslas? It’s daddy’s favourite,” she requests.

He glances up at her parents once again before he asks, “Would you like to sing it with us? I’m sure your da would love hearing you singing, too.”

She looks over at her parents, who must have heard because they smile and nod. “Okay,” she agrees quietly.

Niall pulls her onto his lap and puts the iPad atop hers as he plays a few notes to give them their key. Harry and Zayn are ready and when Niall draws in a breath, it’s their cue to start.

_“Good King Wenceslas last looked out  
on the feast of Stephen…”_

The little girl sings along bravely, her voice loud and her eyes bright as she watches her parents, who look so relieved not only to see their daughter smiling, but maybe even because they don’t have to try to occupy her for once. Niall’s not sure how long they’ve been in the airport, but he’d guess a long time – they might’ve even been on his flight.

As they finish the song requested by little Aoife, a voice comes on the speakers and says that Harry’s flight to Los Angeles has been cancelled.

Harry frowns, as do many people in the crowd around where Niall, Harry, and Zayn are singing, and he stands up. “I’ve got to go reschedule my flight,” he says, looking mostly at Aoife. “Will you take my place and keep singing with them?”

She beams, happy to be tasked with something so important, and she scrambles from Niall’s lap and into the seat next to him where Harry had just been seated. Zayn and Niall let Aoife choose the next song, and Harry goes up to the counter to queue up in order to get a new flight.

It takes less time than he thinks to get up to the counter. As it turns out, nothing is available until the next day. “Tomorrow at 3:20 pm is the earliest you can fly me out?” he asks sadly. The woman at the counter nods. “Alright, I’ll take it,” he agrees.

When Harry returns, he finds that the hat he’d had tucked into the front pocket of his suitcase was pulled out and they’ve now got a sizeable amount of cash inside of it. As it turns out, all anybody needed in order to cheer up was a little holiday spirit.

Aoife sings a few more songs with them before she rushes over to her parents. They look very grateful to Harry, Zayn, and Niall for keeping her occupied if only for just a while. Zayn reaches into the hat and pulls out some money, and then walks over to kneel in front of Aoife where she’s standing next to her mum. “You have a beautiful voice. Why don’t you get yourself a nice treat while you’re waiting to fly?” he says as he holds out the money. She looks shy, but he adds, “You earned it, just like the rest of us.”

Gently Aoife reaches out to take the money, and she hides next to her mum. “What d’you tell the nice man, Aoife,” her mum prompts.

“Thank you,” she says.

“You’re welcome,” Zayn smiles in reply.

She’s a sweet girl, and he’s glad he could help her out. When he walks back to the lads, Zayn hears her asking her mum if they can go get a snack. When he sits down and looks for them, they’re already disappearing down the hallway.

Harry is now on his phone, muttering away frantically. “I know that, but due to weather I’m trapped in London for the night. Any chance you’ve got an opening the day after we’re meant to meet?”

He’s trying to reschedule his appointments, it seems. Zayn and Niall sit back, Zayn still shivering, and Niall asks, “You alright? You look cold.”

“I’m good,” Zayn lies.

Niall shrugs off his denim jacket. He’s still got a hoodie underneath so he’ll be alright. Zayn, on the other hand, is only wearing his tee shirt. “Here. Warm up in this,” he offers.

Zayn tries to wave it off, but Niall holds the jacket out and won’t take no for an answer. Reluctantly, Zayn shrugs into it, but he’s relieved almost immediately. It’s still warm from Niall’s body heat, which means he’s warming up right away. “Thanks,” he says.

“Not a problem,” Niall smiles.

 

**4:30 PM**

Louis is thankful that his delay means the airline has given him a voucher for a meal, because he’s not exactly rolling in money. Liam offered to buy their meals at the pub, but Louis was relieved he didn’t have to be anyone’s charity case. He’s still quiet, though, until their drinks and food are delivered. Then Louis relaxes and opens up a bit more.

“So where do you live,” Liam asks casually as he puts a chip in his mouth.

“Doncaster,” Louis explains.

“D’you have flatmates or anything?” he asks.

“If my family counts,” Louis sighs. He looks up at Liam and says, “I’m this old and I still live at home. Yes.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” Liam says kindly. He makes sure to catch Louis’s eyes before he says, “I lived with my parents until just last year. Then Sophia and I got a place. Except now it’s just mine, because she’s still in Paris. Trust me, your own place isn’t always better. I miss having my mum to do my laundry for me.”

Louis laughs and says, “I have to do my own. Mum won’t do it for me.”

Liam bursts out laughing at that, and he says sweetly, “Tell me about your family.”

“Well… they’re great,” Louis begins, but doesn’t sound so enthusiastic. He sighs and says, “Me mum’s remarried again, but I like this guy the most. He makes her really happy and he tried to get to know us all. So did Mark, but he got bored… I don’t think Dan will. Dunno, really.” He shrugs. “It’s not really any of my business who she’s with, is it?” Louis looks up at Liam across the table and there’s a sadness in his eyes that Liam didn’t expect to see. He stuffs a chip in his mouth and says, “I have five sisters and one brother. They’re all younger. We all get along, except they’ve been a bit upset with me lately. They really liked someone I used to date, and well… that ended, so.”

The fierce look in his eye tells Liam not to push, but it doesn’t matter because he’s already figured out a little more about Louis and why he’s so hesitant to talk about certain things. A past relationship is haunting him, but Liam wants to know more. He _needs_ to know more because he’s filled with the overwhelming urge to help everyone, even strangers he meets at airports.

Liam decides that instead of asking questions, he’s going to take a different course of action. “I just have two sisters,” he says, “They’re both older and it’s a bit weird being the baby of the family. I mean, I’ve already been in both of their weddings _and_ I’ve got a nephew. It’s a lot of pressure because I think they all want that from me, too. But like… these things take time.”

Louis looks up at Liam as he’s speaking and can’t help but notice the sadness in his eyes when he says those things take time. He sighs and says, “You’re waiting for her to finish school. That’s different than putting it off because you don’t want it.”

Liam’s silent for a moment, debating his next move, but then decides to say it out loud: “What if that’s the thing, though? What if I’m waiting for her to finish school but she’s putting it off because she’s not in love with me anymore?”

With a frown, Louis tilts his head to the side and stuffs a chip in his mouth. “Don’t be daft, Liam. She loves you. You’re a bloody romantic, flying in this terrible weather just to go surprise her for the holidays,” Louis says firmly, like he’s one-hundred percent confident that Sophia still loves Liam. Even if it sounds like she doesn’t and Louis clearly noticed this.

“She could still have fallen out of love with me,” Liam frowns. “We don’t talk as much as we used to, we haven’t Skyped in months…” he sighs. “How do I know if it’s over?”

“When it’s long distance, I suppose you don’t… not technically,” Louis hedges. “But you guys still talk, and that’s better than not talking at all. You’re communicating… you’ll be okay.”

Liam shakes his head. “I don’t know. We don’t really talk about anything important.”

“Then it’s good you’re flying out to see her, isn’t it?” Louis says firmly. “You’re going to go show yourself that you were worrying for nothing… that she still loves you.”

Louis ignores the ache in his chest as he talks about this with Liam, this stranger who so obviously worries for his relationship – and for good reason. Louis is no stranger to heartbreak, and he knows more than anything that it’s a feeling he wants to save everyone from, if he can. But Liam… he barely knows him. He can’t be especially helpful, especially when the only evidence Louis has to go off of is what Liam’s told him – and that doesn’t sound good.

“Just… open up her Facebook or her Instagram or whatever she uses for photos,” Louis suggests. “Go look at them. I’ll bet she has loads, right? And she’d want to show off the rock you got her… all girls do. I bet if you go look, she’s still wearing the ring, and that means she still wants to marry you.”

He’s sure that his plan is foolproof. Everyone loves wearing jewelry that shows off their engagement – it’s like an unspoken rule of being betrothed to someone that suddenly your left side becomes your best side because that’s where the ring is. Liam looks unsure, but opens up Facebook on his phone to reassure himself.

Louis isn’t expecting to see Liam’s frown deepen, to see his brow furrow and his eyes avoid meeting his as he holds out his phone. “Look through her profile pictures,” he says tensely.

As he does, Louis realizes that he’s just made a grave, grave mistake. In every single photo from the last six months, Sophia is beaming as she stands by her friends in various Parisian places. She looks like she’s glowing with happiness – but there’s no ring. “Maybe she got it fitted?” Louis suggests awkwardly.

“We did that before I left,” Liam groans, nearly wailing in sadness. “It really is over, isn’t it? Why wouldn’t she just tell me?”

Louis panics, mostly because he’s been stupid enough to open up the floor for this to happen. “A pint over here for him, please,” he says to the waitress at the next table over. Then Louis turns to Liam and says, “Liam, no. It’s not over until you two talk about it. And I bet it’s not over. Maybe she took it off for work? Or the camera mirrors things, so that’s actually her right side in all the pictures, not her left?”

“Louis, look, I get it. Your test worked. She doesn’t want to marry me anymore.”

“Liam, no,” Louis says pathetically, ready to cry for Liam because he looks so devastated.

“There you guys are!”

Louis looks sharply over his shoulder and there’s the gang of Harry, Niall, and Zayn walking towards them. “Don’t you guys have a flight to catch?” Louis asks.

Harry quirks an eyebrow at how brash Louis sounds, but shakes his head. “We’re all delayed until at least eight o’clock tonight, now,” he explains. “I’ve tried getting hotel service but they’re all booked up. So we’re staying here tonight. Luckily the terminal is small – we’ve been looking everywhere for you two!"

Niall’s already sliding into the booth next to Liam and urging Zayn to join him. Liam’s stuffing his phone in his pocket and trying his best to hide all the emotion he’d just had on his face – the last thing he wants is for his failed engagement to be the topic of dinner conversation.

Harry slides into the booth next to Louis, who’s a bit on edge now that he can’t properly try to console Liam after the royal mess he’d made. He feels guilty, too guilty to finish his meal, so he slides it out to Niall who has been eyeing the plate since he sat down.

Under the table, Louis kicks at Liam’s shoe and their eyes meet over the table.

 _Sorry_ , Louis mouths.

Liam blinks, his eyes still glassy, and just nods his forgiveness. Louis puts on a brave face and detours any questions aimed at Liam with expert ease, letting Liam dwell in his thoughts with his pint in hand.

Louis feels a twinge of guilt, being relieved that he’s not the only person who’s had a failed engagement. He keeps his lips sealed, though, and turns back to the conversation at the table, distracting the other lads from Liam’s melancholy state.

 _“Attention passengers of British Airlines flight zero-three-zero-six with service to Paris:_  
_due to the weather, this flight has been cancelled._  
 _Please see the nearest service desk for assistance in rescheduling your flight. Thank you.”_

All eyes at the table quickly dart to Liam, who sighs heavily. “Li-,” Louis begins.

“It’s fine,” Liam says, his voice still warm even though he looks so upset. “I’ll just go reschedule. It’s only Paris. They fly there all the time, I won’t be stuck here forever.”

Zayn and Niall stand up from the booth to let Liam out, and even though they all picked up on Liam’s sadness, nobody said a word about it. Louis made it clear through his interruptions and deflections of questions that Liam was to be left alone, anyway.

“I’ll join you, mate,” Zayn says softly as Liam stands up next to him.

“You don’t have to,” Liam shakes his head. “There’s food, and they’re here, and…”

“I’m not hungry,” Zayn shrugs. “C’mon, let’s go.”

Liam really doesn’t want anybody with him in that moment, because he’s struggling to come to terms with what he thinks he’s just found out thanks to Louis and his brilliant idea. But Zayn is just as quiet when they’re alone, just the two of them, as he is when they’re with the group. Liam’s grateful for that, for the way Zayn will walk by his side like a friend but keep quiet like a stranger. He didn’t know how badly he needed someone like that until Zayn walked with him to his gate.

The queue is long, but Liam doesn’t mind. He can’t even see out the windows anymore, the weather is so bad. Snow is gusting around and they heard a few whistling windows on their way to the gate, too. Liam would be shocked if anyone was flying anymore.

“I’m sorry about whatever happened,” Zayn offers.

Liam’s caught off guard by Zayn’s sudden conversation, but he’s sort of grateful for it. “Thanks,” he replies. “It’s just… well, it’s something I thought was true but hoped wasn’t.”

“That’s awful,” Zayn says.

“Yeah,” Liam nods. He swallows hard, glad that Zayn’s not pushing, he’s just letting Liam process it. “I suppose I should just try to get a flight home instead of going out to Paris, now.”

“If it’s about your fiancé, you should at least go talk to her,” Zayn says. “You’ve already paid for tickets, and like… she should have to face you.”

Liam nods again. He hates the thought of seeing Sophia in pain, even if she’s the one who put him in this situation to begin with, but he knows that Zayn has a point.

“I’m sorry it’s over,” Zayn says softly. “That’s shit.”

Liam shrugs. “Like I said… I sort of saw it coming.”

“Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt, though,” Zayn offers.

Liam looks over at him, full of relief. Zayn’s understanding and his calm, non-pressing nature is putting Liam more at ease than he thought possible. “Thanks,” Liam nods.

Then it’s Liam’s turn at the counter, and thanks to the first class ticket he’d been given earlier, he can easily get on the next flight they’re booking for: one for the next morning. He takes it without hesitation because he’d rather not fly out during the storm, anyway.

“Harry said the hotels are booked up?” Liam asks as they walk away from the counter.

“Yeah,” Zayn nods. “I was thinking of just taking the train back to Bradford.”

“That’s brilliant,” Liam says. “I should just take a train somewhere to a hotel that has open rooms.”

“Off to find the schedules?” Zayn suggests, and Liam nods, a small smile back on his face.

 

**5:00 pm**

When the bill comes around for food, Harry takes it and slides a very fancy looking credit card across the table to the waitress. “I’ll log it as business expense,” he says with a bright smile.

“Don’t you ever worry that you’re taking advantage?” Louis snaps.

He’s tetchy over the whole mess with Liam and Sophia and how he’s basically ruined their relationship, so he can’t hold his tongue when it comes to other people now.

Harry shrugs and says, “No, not really. I know it looks like I am, but honestly, Louis… other people are way worse. Food is an essential part of being stuck at an airport. I’ve even had a company take insult to me not using their business expense account for my meals. I tried it once.”

“You just seem like such a nice bloke, but then you go and blow through other peoples’ money like it’s nothing at all,” Louis replies. He pointedly hands his meal voucher to the waitress, to pay for his own meal.

He’s still scowling, but Harry doesn’t let it affect him too much. He sighs and says, “To them, it really _is_ nothing at all. This food for all of you isn’t even going to make a dent in their allotment for me on my travels, or their expense account overall. That’s just the business I’m in. I choose to use that generosity they have to take care of others as well as myself.”

Louis is quiet, sulking where he sits low in his seat. Niall’s seated across from them, looking uncomfortable. “So… we’re good?” he asks hesitantly.

Niall’s ice blue eyes dart between Harry and Louis like he’s worried he’ll have to break up a pub fight, but thankfully they’re both quiet after that. “I get the impression that you’re not used to seeing such spending, or having people offer this sort of thing to you so offhandedly,” Harry says softly after a moment. “I’m sorry if I offended you or if you don’t like this sort of behaviour.”

And Harry’s right, in a way. Louis doesn’t like seeing people spend money so casually because it reminds him of what he doesn’t have – what his _family_ doesn’t have. He just nods and looks away as Harry adds a large tip and scribbles his name on the receipt.

“Well… what shall we do now?”

“I think I should just get the tube back home. I could probably reschedule my flight to tomorrow sometime. My flat’s not far,” Niall says.

“I think I should do the same,” Harry agrees. “The perks of living in London, I suppose.”

Louis stands after Harry and pointedly avoids their eyes. He hasn’t got a place to go – he has to be that bloke who kips in the airport, the one who wasn’t even smart enough to bring his duffel bag as a carry-on so he’d have a pillow while he tries to sleep in some random corner of the place.

“Louis, you want to kip with me or sommat?” Niall offers.

Surprised at the question, Louis doesn’t speak and just looks at Niall, stunned. They wait for him to answer and suddenly Louis feels a bit like a charity case.

“I’m fine,” he says finally. “Thanks, though.”

Harry and Niall both look at Louis a bit worriedly, but he easily shrugs them off and says, “I should go find a quiet spot, do some rehearsing. I won’t have a second to do it before my audition, assuming I make it there at all.” He looks between them and desperately feels the urge to escape their concerned gazes. “Good luck getting where you’re going.”

“You too,” Niall nods.

“Good luck at your audition,” Harry offers.

Louis flashes a bright smile – it’s fake, but he’s practiced his whole life to make it look genuine – and waves as he walks away.

“He’s not okay, is he?” Niall asks Harry softly.

They watch as Louis stuffs his hands in the pockets of his trackies and Harry shakes his head.

“No, he’s not.”

 _“Attention all passengers: Due to the extreme weather conditions bearing down upon London, all arrivals and departures for this evening have been cancelled._  
_Please see a ticket counter for your designated airline in order to be placed on a new flight._  
 _Additionally, city transit has closed down for the evening. We have been informed that local hotels have all been filled._  
 _Emergency crews will be providing a limited number of cots at the main entrance to the terminal._  
 _We ask that women and children please proceed to this area first._  
 _We will keep all passengers as informed as we can during this time._  
 _Please see arrival and departure boards for updated weather forecasts. Thank you.”_

“Well… shit.”

Niall looks over at Harry, who’s already turning to look back at him.

“I’ll reschedule in a bit,” Harry says, looking around the airport. “I’ve dealt with this before… let’s go find a shop and buy some blankets or pillows before they sell out.”

“But-,” Niall starts

“My card,” Harry replies.

There’s no chance they’ll be able to go anywhere anyway, so they might as well stock up and get ready for the longest night of their lives – the night they got stranded at Heathrow airport due to the worst winter storm that London has seen in years.

Thankfully, Harry knows his way around the airport better than most people, and he manages to push through the crowd in the kindest way Niall’s ever seen – especially with his luggage. He steps into the nearest shop and grabs a couple blankets, some neck pillows, and the one lone miniature travel pillow they have left besides the ones in the children’s area. “Should we get some for the others?” Niall asks. “I mean, I can still text Liam… I bet they’re stranded, too.”

Harry nods, grabbing a few pillows off the children’s shelf: a unicorn, a puppy, and an owl. He carries the large pile of items to the counter and says to Niall, “Why don’t you text them, maybe see if they can find some open seats while we’re paying?”

There’s a long line, as one would expect, and most people overlooked pillows in favour of buying items with which to pass the time, like activity books and magazines. Harry’s glad they found a shop so soon – he’s made the mistake of forgetting to stock up on pillows while stranded more than once.

Niall types away a message to Liam while Harry holds out his fancy credit card again, and after nearly thirty minutes, they’ve finally made their way out of the shop and back towards the seats. “Liam says they’re over by the schedules. D’you know where that is?” Niall asks, looking around while perching on his tip-toes to try to see over the massive crowds of people.

Harry adjusts the large bag of pillows and blankets he’s got, setting it atop his suitcase as he gathers his bearings. After a quick look left and right, he says, “Yeah, it’ll be down there,” and points to the opposite end of the terminal.

He glances to his left, just in case they’re at the transit map just next to the store they shopped in, but they’re not. “Okay, I told him we’re by gate eight. He says to look for open seats because there’s nothing down there,” Niall informs him.

Harry keeps an eye out but can’t find anything open. Families are already piling up in groups of seats – some people are even on the floor – and there are of course the few rude travelers who decided their luggage needed to take up the seat next to them.

Just as Liam said, Harry and Niall spot them standing around by the champagne bar they’d had drinks at earlier – it’s halfway down the hallway and there isn’t a single seat left. There’s four of them now – Liam and Zayn are reunited with Harry and Niall – but they’ve still got no idea where Louis could be. “Well, have you got any tips for finding a good place to stay?” Liam asks.

Harry sighs. He wishes he did, but sadly, only one thing comes to mind. “I guess our best chance would be to check at either end… the gates make a sort of ‘U’ shape and the ones at the ends are always emptiest. Did you check down by A23?” he asks. Zayn nods. “Well… let’s try down by A1 then. At the very least, we could find a quiet patch of floor.”

“We stocked up on pillows,” Niall says, pointing to the large bag Harry was still carrying.

Liam offers a kind smile but Zayn’s looking more and more exhausted with each step. Liam and Harry are taking charge, searching for a spot to sit, but Niall’s quieter. He’s noticed Zayn’s mood, at the very least. “Y’alright?” he asks.

Zayn looks up, surprised that he’s being spoken to, and he nods. “Yeah. Fine.”

“You sure?” Niall wonders.

Zayn shrugs. “I don’t like flying, is all,” he says. “And like… it’s so _loud_. Sometimes I just need quiet, you know?”

Niall nods. “Sure. I get it. Hopefully we find a good place for you to rest. I can watch your stuff while you sleep, if you want,” he offers.

“Haven’t really got anything,” Zayn says, gesturing to his person. He hasn’t got a single thing on him other than Niall’s jacket – which he now realizes he forgot to return – and his mobile phone.

“Well, I’ll keep you company then,” Niall offers.

Zayn gives Niall the smallest of smiles. He’s never really thought he’d feel so drained after a day full of disappointing attempts at traveling, but it’s true. At the very least he can rest assured knowing somebody will make sure nothing bad happens to him while he’s asleep.

Harry and Liam are having no such luck finding a place for them to sit, and everywhere is packed with people. Restaurants are turning people away because they haven’t got tables, and the poor employees at every food stand and retail shops look harassed and ready to go home.

In short, Heathrow is pure chaos.

By the time they reach the other end of the terminal where gate A1 is located, they’re all ready to just give up. There are two seats in the very last seating area, but they’re next to a crying baby being held by a mother who looks ready to give up and let him cry, so they decide the floor is the best spot.

Except the clear patch of floor against the wall is being blocked, and they’re unhappy, to say the least. But seconds after becoming annoyed by the pacing man, they realize that it’s just Louis, and he’s frantically trying to rehearse something under his breath. “Louis… hey,” Harry begins.

Louis looks up and frowns. They’re the last people he’d actually hoped to see.

“Practicing for your audition?” Liam asks, already knowing the answer.

Louis just glares, but Liam’s not afraid of him now. He’s seen Louis look fragile, so he’s not as intimidating when he’s supposed to be angry.

“We’ve got pillows, so you can kip for a bit if you need,” Niall offers, gesturing to the large bag of pillows Harry’s still hoarding on his suitcase.

Louis looks between them all and he sighs. “What is this, some sort of campout? Just the five of us in the corner of the airport? Kinda pathetic, innit?” he argues.

He’s arguing just for the sake of it now, and it’s clear to all of them. “You don’t have to, but we’re taking wall space so go pace somewhere else, then,” Liam replies easily.

Louis looks livid, and Liam’s sort of proud that he’s gotten under Louis’s skin the way he has. Louis moves out of the way, though, like he’s going to respect him even if he pisses him off, and he pulls out his phone again to look at the tiny words glowing up at him.

Harry, Niall, and Liam start setting up their space against the wall. At least there aren’t windows there – that’s less of a draft for them to have to deal with. Niall pulls out the pillows and puts together a makeshift bed out of all of them. “We should’ve gotten more,” Harry mumbles, looking at their pitiful attempt at a bed.

“We can lay on these and use our shoulders and laps as pillows,” Niall suggests. “It’ll be fine.”

Liam doesn’t think it’s a half bad idea, so he sits down near the corner, leaving one space on the sparkly purple stuffed unicorn pillow for one of the others – whoever wants to tuck into the corner. Harry’s seated next to Liam on one side, and Niall’s on the other, and they sit there in silence as Zayn walks over to Louis.

“I’ll run lines with you,” he offers softly.

Louis wants to push him away, but Zayn’s quiet and earnest and running lines would actually really help, so he sighs and says, “Thanks, but my mobile’s going to die soon anyway, so… I’m good.”

Zayn nods, but then gets an idea. He walks over to Harry’s bags and digs out the iPad from earlier. Harry doesn’t even flinch as Zayn helps himself to his bags – they’re all friends, at least for the night. He holds it out to Louis and says, “Pull it up on here. We charged it when we used it earlier. It’ll last a long time, and the words will be bigger.”

It’s clear that Louis doesn’t want to accept the help, but he does it anyway because he knows his career is on the line. He taps away at the screen for a few moments while Zayn leans against the wall casually, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans. He’s still wearing Niall’s jacket, which is a little big on him, but he’s warm and comfortable, and he could use something mindless to help him relax.

“I think I’ve got it all memorized, I just need to… run it, you know?”

Louis hands the iPad back to Zayn, who nods and looks it over. He starts in on the scene, reading the lines for the person playing opposite Louis. Harry watches the way Louis’s whole body visibly relaxes as he gets into the role. He’s playing someone young – a teenager, maybe – someone delicate and sweet. Or at least, that’s the impression he gets. He can’t exactly hear them over the loud hum of voices in the airport and constant announcements over the intercom offering people rides between terminals to find others, or more space.

Liam can see it too, the way Louis molds himself into whoever he needs to be. He does it day in and day out, but with more subtlety. Niall, where he’s sitting next to Liam, says, “He’s gonna get it.”

Harry looks over, and Liam just nods. “He’s good,” Liam agrees.

Niall rests his head on Liam’s shoulder and tries his hardest to stifle a yawn as Harry shifts and kicks off his sparkly boots. They lay off to the side, forgotten, as he pulls out his phone. “My sister’s still in the city,” he tells them conversationally. “She says they’re all stuck where they’re at. She’s closed up shop but she’ll be there for the night because she can’t get her car door open, the snow banks are so high.”

“Shit,” Liam mumbles.

Niall doesn’t answer, but the extra weight on Liam’s shoulder says it’s because Niall’s napping. It’s nearly six o’clock, but he could stay awake a while longer. Watching Louis is entrancing – more thrilling than watching anyone else perform, that’s for sure.

“Hey Liam?” Harry asks softly.

Liam looks over. “Yeah?”

“Are you going to be okay?”

It’s not the question he’s expecting, nor does he really know how to answer it. On the one hand, it’s practical to say yes because of _course_ he’s going to be okay – it’s not as though he’s got a life threatening disease or something. But on the other hand, he doesn’t _feel_ like he’s going to be okay because he structured his whole life and future around Sophia, and it meant nothing to her.

Liam settles on, “I dunno.”

“Is it like… officially over?” Harry wonders.

Liam sighs and says, “I guess. I feel like it is. It’s like… the signs were there all along. I just didn’t realize it until Louis helped me notice.”

“He didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I know,” Liam nods. “It’s Sophia who hurt me.”

They’re both quiet, Harry and Liam both mulling in their own thoughts. A loud snore from Niall pulls Liam back to reality, and he confesses, “Part of me wants to just confront her now. To call her and see if it really is over. I mean, talking in person is good, but… I could just rip off the plaster now and be done with it. Why waste a trip to Paris?”

Harry nods pensively, and he’s not quite sure what Liam wants to hear. “I think you should do what feels best,” he advises. “I’ll take your spot and be Niall’s pillow, if you want to go call her.”

Liam thinks on it for a moment, his brow furrowed as he really weighs his options, but settles upon an answer with a simple nod. “I should,” he says. “I really want to know.”

They shift a little, Liam trying to get free, and it wakes Niall. “Whassit?” Niall mumbles, his eyes still droopy.

He’s supporting his head on his own, so Liam and Harry take that chance to swap spaces. Liam stands up while Harry leans against the wall, guiding Niall’s head back onto his shoulder. “Just sleep,” he says, but he didn’t need to. Niall’s dozing off again before Harry finishes the last syllable.

Liam looks terrified as he dials Sophia’s number. Louis and Zayn both pause what they’re doing as they watch Liam walk just past them, his free hand stuffed in his pocket and a look of sadness in his eyes.

They try to go back to what they’re doing, to ignore the sombre phone call taking place just down the corridor from them, but Louis isn’t totally in the scene like he was before. In silent agreement, Zayn and Louis end the scene when Liam hangs up the phone, and they both look over at him as he walks back to the fort they’ve set up at the end of the hallway. “Liam?” Louis asks softly.

He still feels guilty about before – he was trying to make it better, not make it worse – and he’s afraid of the news he’s going to hear.

Louis is closest to Liam as he looks up at them. He can see that his eyes are glassy, sees the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard.

“It’s true. It’s over.”

His voice sounds strained and tight, and he’s trying so hard to fight all the emotions threatening to break loose. Louis, faced with flashbacks of his own, reaches out and pulls Liam into a big hug without thinking twice. He’s got his arms tight around his waist and his head dipped down, tucking his head beneath Liam’s chin and his face in his chest.

They’re all shocked to see it, none more than Liam. Louis looked so overcome with something of his own, Harry noticed, but it isn’t his place to ask and he knows it. Liam’s arms wrap around Louis’s body and he looks down, nose in Louis’s hair as he breathes in his warm scent and lets himself accept the comfort he’s being provided.

For being stranded in an airport after just learning his fiancée no longer wants to be with him, Liam doesn’t feel totally alone like one would think. If he had to handle this sort of news without his newfound friends, Liam isn’t sure he’d know how to. “I’m sorry,” Louis whispers, and only Liam can hear it.

“I know,” Liam replies softly into Louis’s caramel coloured hair.

They hug for the longest time, the other three giving them a moment. Zayn hands the iPad back to Harry as he sits down on his other side. He pulls out his phone as Harry’s done, and the moment becomes completely private for Liam and Louis.

Slowly, Louis starts to break out of the hug and he looks up at Liam through long lashes as he says, “I never meant to ruin your engagement.”

His voice is soft and tender with a slight tremor, like he’s nervous. “I know,” Liam says as he nods. They still haven’t let go of each other, but he doesn’t feel the need to. Louis’s fingertips dancing at his sides and playing with his shirt make him feel relaxed in a way he hadn’t expected. “You didn’t ruin it. Sophia did, by deciding she didn’t want me.”

“Are you going to be okay?” Louis asks.

“Yeah, sure,” Liam replies automatically.

Louis’s brow furrows and he looks concerned as he says, “I mean it, Liam. I’ve…” he freezes for a moment, after weighing his options, decides to say, “I’ve been in your shoes. I know how it feels and I wasn’t okay but I didn’t tell anyone and it was bad. Really bad. So let me ask you again… are you going to be okay?”

Liam looks into Louis’s eyes seriously, like he feels like he’s been gifted with something special just because Louis opened up to him. He takes in every word, lets it truly sink in, and then admits, “I think… I’m going to be okay. One day. But right now…” he looks down, “I’m not.”

Louis nods, like it’s the answer he was expecting to hear, and he hugs Liam again. “It’s a good thing you’ve got us then, isn’t it?” he says softly, like it’s supposed to cheer Liam up.

And even though they’re practically strangers, in a way, it _does_ cheer him up.

He wants to ask Louis about his own situation, about what happened and when, but it doesn’t feel like the right time. Louis has finally relaxed again, and he deserves a chance to relax, Liam decides. He holds Louis a little longer, ignoring the strange knot in his chest. He’s felt that way around Louis all day long but he’s never really known what it means – not that he feels ready to find out, anyway.

After Liam’s phone call, the group gets quiet. Niall’s still asleep on Harry’s shoulder and Zayn’s laying down across the thin pillows, his head on Harry’s lap. Harry’s got his own head leaned back against the wall behind him, nothing but a neck pillow for support. They know they’re not going anywhere, so it’s no problem, sleeping without an alarm. The noise doesn’t seem to bother them, either – and Heathrow is a _zoo_.

Liam and Louis decide to go for a walk after Liam takes a few minutes to call his mum and dad and explain what happened.

They’re halfway across the terminal when Liam asks, “D’you need to run lines some more? I feel bad that I interrupted… I can help, if you want.”

Louis glances up at Liam, considering it for a moment, before he shakes his head. “No, I’m good,” he says. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be, honestly.”

“You looked really good earlier,” Liam says. He hesitates and blushes because of how that sounds. Louis snickers. “I meant – you looked like you were good at the role. Like you knew what you were doing.”

“Aw, you mean you don’t think I look good in general?” Louis teases, elbowing Liam.

Liam’s flushed, his ears dark red like they sometimes gets, and he sputters for a minute before he says, “Well you are, but. I can’t _come onto you_. We’ve just met.”

Louis doesn’t know what to say to that, because he hadn’t been expecting agreement from Liam. He’s not sure what to do with that little tidbit of honesty. “I’m flattered,” he says finally, breaking the tension that grew with each second in which he didn’t reply. “And for the record, you’re rather fit yourself.”

And that’s all either of them says on it, because they’re blushing and embarrassed and it’s true – they’ve just met.

Louis feels his phone ring in his pocket, the vibration obvious even in his thick trackies, and he steps off to answer it, Liam following him to the side of the hallway to get out of other peoples’ way.

“Hey mum,” Louis says. There’s a pause. “Yeah, I’m delayed until tomorrow.” Pause. “I can’t come home – all the trains have stopped because of the storm.” Louis stuffs his free hand in his pocket and frowns. “I know.” A heavy sigh. “I _know_ mum.” Louis purses his lips tight and closes his eyes as his mum presumably goes on and on about something. “I’m not trying to --,” he begins, but he’s cut off. “Yes, mum. I know. That’s the deal.” Another pause. “I’ll let you know when I land. Love you.”

When he rings off, he doesn’t look like he’s in a good mood anymore. “Everything alright?” Liam asks hesitantly.

“Fine.”

He figures that’s all he’s going to get out of Louis, and he doesn’t want to press matters any. “Let’s get some tea,” he suggests instead, leading Louis up to the counter.

Back against the wall, Zayn is stirring. He’s uncomfortable now, the pillows flattening enough so he feels the hardness of the floor through them. With a disgruntled groan, he sits up and leans against the wall, adjusting the pillows so his bum doesn’t get sore. Harry wakes from the movement and looks over. Zayn’s already pulling out his phone, typing away to his family.

His mum’s asking him how he is, and if he can get home. His sister’s apologizing for getting him stuck in London. Zayn just keeps quiet as he types out replies, insisting he’s fine and he’s not mad, and then he leans his head back against the wall.

“Y’alright?”

It’s a question Zayn’s heard a lot that day, but not necessarily aimed at him. This is a first, and he looks over at Harry, studying him for a moment.

He feels like he’s going to burst but he doesn’t really know how to phrase that. There are so many things on his mind, so much that he’s dealing with, but Harry’s a perfect stranger and how on earth is he supposed to understand, to know how Zayn feels?

Zayn shrugs, and he picks at a string on his jeans as he debates over what to tell Harry. “I don’t mind listening,” Harry offers, his voice soft and kind.

But why Harry’s offering, Zayn doesn’t know. It’s not like they’re friends. They’ve chatted a few times in the group they’ve formed in the airport, but never one on one. He’s had that time with others, but not Harry. It feels weird. Zayn’s not used to people other than his family checking up on him.

“I’m just stressed, is all,” he shrugs. “I’ve got a lot to do, what with my post-grad work and trying to get an internship and it’s not like my field is all that _big_ …”

“You’re an artist, right?” Harry asks, refreshing his memory. Zayn nods. “Well… trying to get a job in an art studio or gallery is all well and good, but… have you considered branching out? Teach, or tattoo, or work with kids or offer private lessons. There’s so much you can do.”

“Tattoo?” Zayn asks, caught up on that one particular suggestion because it never actually occurred to him.

“Sure,” Harry replies. “You drew that photo for me. Take a few lessons on how to use the tattoo equipment, or whatever those people have to do, and put your art on people. I’d trust you to do it for me.” He looks at Zayn, his expression so plain and simple, like he doesn’t mind giving out advice and helping other people with their problems all the time. “I’d even let you practice on me, if you needed.”

Zayn’s quiet, pensive, because Harry’s actually got a point. He can do so much with what he’s studying. He doesn’t have to visit every gallery in town hoping for five minutes of someone’s time. “That’s… that make sense, yeah,” Zayn nods.

“You don’t have to, but it’s something to consider,” Harry offers kindly. “And here,” he says, holding out his hand, beckoning for Zayn’s phone, “I’ll even give you my number so you can call if you need a practice canvas.”

“But -,” Zayn begins.

“I’ve done it for other friends, see?” he says, pulling back the half-unbuttoned portion of his shirt to show off his chest and upper arm. It’s littered with random tattoos, things he can’t really explain. “I like having people practice on me. It’s cool seeing them develop. I’m literal proof of someone getting better at what they’re doing, and I really like it.”

Zayn studies Harry, seeing him in a light that he wasn’t expecting. Harry is so selfless and so kind. He’d do anything for his friends… for people he barely knows. Zayn hands over his phone, letting Harry input his number, and then looks down at the new contact in his phone – one of only a handful, because Zayn doesn’t exactly branch out often – and then decides to text Harry right away. “Now you can call me, too,” Zayn says. He feels awkward, putting himself out there, but he does. “Y’know. When you’re around London. Bored.”

The way Harry beams after Zayn offers is something he’s not expecting, either. Harry – unpredictable, sweet, handsome Harry – is definitely an interesting man. He’s not someone Zayn would warm to, except he’s had time to see past the crazy looking exterior at the kind man underneath.

 

**9:00 PM**

The airport is slowly beginning to quiet down as nighttime hits. The storm isn’t as strong as it was before, but the city is buried in mounds of snow and the wind pushes the snow into dangerous drifts. Some people have braved leaving, the ones who drove, so the hallways are emptying a little. Cots are set up all over, and the five lads at the end of the hallway by gate A1 are glad they grabbed floor space when they did.

Harry had texted Liam and Louis, warning them that people were trying to encroach upon their territory, so they made their way back to sit down and claim their spot.

There are fussy kids protesting against their parents who are trying to calm them down and sleep, and there are still angry flyers at ticket counters demanding better accommodations, but in general the noise has softened and it’s easier for everyone to fall asleep.

Niall is full-on cuddling Harry now, curled up against his side with his arms wrapped around his torso, his head still on his shoulder. Harry’s got a blanket over the two of them and he’s leaning back with his neck pillow, though he’s blinking too much to really be asleep. He’s trying, though. He’s also got his arm protectively wrapped around Niall’s shoulders, but everyone pretends they’re not seeing that bit. It seems too private to acknowledge.

Zayn’s at Harry’s other side, and he’s fast asleep again, too. He’s curled up tight in one of the other blankets, the warmth enough to relax him so he could fall asleep again.

There’s a gap in their little row of people, Liam allowing Zayn plenty of space to curl up, and then in the corner sits Louis. He’s leaning into Liam a little bit, and they’re sharing the last blanket Harry was able to buy at the store earlier. Louis has his knees pulled to his chest and Liam’s crossed his own legs so the blanket covers all of him.

Louis’s voice is tiny and timid – something so unlike him, Liam knows already – as he says, “I know you want to ask, so just go ahead.”

And maybe it’s a sign that he wants to talk about whatever it is he’s hinting at, or maybe he just genuinely thinks Liam’s still hung up on something, but either way, Liam just asks, “What?”

“About me. When I said… _you know_ , after you called Sophia,” Louis stammers. He’d been sure Liam had been hung up on what he’d said. “About me. Being in your shoes.”

Liam gets it now, understands what Louis is referring to, and he pauses a moment before he looks over at Louis and says, “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. Trust me… I know how much it hurts.”

Louis shrugs, his blue eyes focused on Liam’s, a steely bravery in them. “It’s fine,” he says softly, nearly whispering now. “I… I should talk about it.” He breathes. “I _want_ to talk about it. With you. Nobody else will really get it.”

Liam nods, and he relaxes against Louis, their weight holding each other up, as he says, “Alright. That makes sense. You don’t have to give me all the details though. Like… if it’s too painful.” Liam’s quiet, debating how to ask about the situation, until finally he just asks, “What happened?”

It’s quiet, at first. Liam doesn’t pressure Louis for an answer – he knows that it’ll take a while for Louis to open up. His voice is soft and a little broken as he says, “I… I was engaged. To this guy.” Liam feels Louis tense next to him, like he needs to be on the defense. He doesn’t see what the big deal is, as far as that goes. When Louis realizes, he takes a deep breath and continues, “We met in school, while we were working on A-levels. I was always a poor student but I was even worse with him. I’d never turn anything in because I was so busy with him – even though he managed to finish with good marks.

“Anyway… we got engaged right after we’d finished. We were barely eighteen,” Louis laughs, mockingly, like he hates his younger self for agreeing to the proposal. “He got down on one knee right there on the first day of hols after we’d finished and I said yes. Mum said she was happy, but.” Louis swallows hard and changes trains of thought. “Me sisters loved him. Said he was the coolest guy they knew. He’d gotten a job at a place in town – basically the best place you could work in a town like Donny.”

Liam sees Louis fidgeting nervously, can feel the anxious energy radiating off of his every fibre of being. His voice is so timid, so small, like he’s reliving some of his worst memories ever. Liam gently reaches over to Louis’s lap where he’s fidgeting and covers one of his hands with his own. He laces their fingers together with gentle, practiced ease, and likes the way their fingers slot together so easily. It’s a simple gesture, but he smiles a little when he feels Louis relax next to him. Their hands drop to the space between them and Louis takes a deep breath. Liam rubs the back of his hand with his thumb, gently reassuring him, and waits patiently to hear more.

“We started planning our wedding… or well, _I_ did, with me mum and sisters, because he was working. I had a job at the toy store and a diner in town. Made shit for money but I didn’t have the marks to do much. I tried to keep going in acting, too. Did a lot with the theatre troupe in town, worked with little kids on stage, too. But it wasn’t a career – not really,” Louis continues. “He started to say as much, too. But I ignored it, or tried at least. I was working really hard – long hours and not a lot of money, because he wanted to get a place together. Whenever I wasn’t working, I was sorting out the wedding.”

Louis lets out a shaky breath and he confesses, “I knew it was doomed by that point, but I convinced myself I was just being paranoid. But every time I’d ask him about the wedding… he’d just say he didn’t care. And like – whenever he’d visit me at me mum’s house, because we hadn’t gotten our own place yet, he was like… a perfect gentleman. So sweet to my whole family. But when we left he’d be all detached.”

Liam feels Louis squeeze his hand like he’s searching for strength to keep going. Liam squeezes back and leans towards Louis, their shoulders bumping. “He waited for me to confront him about it, the coward,” he says. “And when I asked why he didn’t care about _anything_ in the wedding, he said he was unhappy with the relationship. Said he was disappointed in me and how I hadn’t focused during my A-levels and now I wasn’t going to be able to get a good job. And that I needed to grow up and stop trying to be an actor or a singer – that I wasn’t good enough. That’s when he dropped the bomb that he was leaving for London to go to uni. He told me two weeks before he was leaving. Didn’t even mention he’d applied.

“The worst part was when he asked for the ring back without even properly saying we were done with. Just told me that he wanted it back and that he wasn’t going to let my _lack of motivation_ hold him back anymore,” Louis finishes. His voice is timid and trembling and Liam’s sure that if he looked over, he’d see tears in Louis’s eyes.

His curiosity gets the better of him, and he looks. Sure enough, Louis’s eyes are wet and he’s blinking furiously, trying to stop the tears from falling.

“Louis, I’m so sorry,” Liam says softly, something private for just the two of them.

“We had our on and off moments but overall we were good – we got along. The sex was good. We laughed and had a good time,” Louis adds. “I don’t know where I went wrong.”

Liam shakes his head at that. “I know like… it _just_ happened to me, but… I don’t think you did anything wrong, Louis. I think you two grew apart… in different directions.” He frowns and realizes, “Like me and Sophia.”

Louis looks up at that, his wet blue eyes watching Liam with so much sadness. “He fucking broke me, Liam,” Louis whispers.

“I know,” Liam nods. He squeezes Louis’s hand again, reminds him he’s there. “Trust me, I know that feeling.”

Louis turns and rests his head on Liam’s shoulder and takes a heavy breath. “You were enough, Louis,” Liam says. “I didn’t even know you then and I’m sure you were. You worked multiple jobs, poured yourself into your passion, and tried to plan an entire wedding by yourself,” Liam lists. “Not everyone can do that. Even fewer can do that and come out on the other end with a broken heart and no ring on their finger. You’re… you’re _so_ strong, Louis.”

“Yeah, well,” Louis says, clearly uncomfortable with the compliments. “You’re stronger. If we’d just met now, rather than before, I’d have never guessed you’d just split with your fiancé. You’re so fucking put together.” He tries to laugh it off, but Liam hears the envy in his voice.

“I didn’t have it together after it happened,” Louis says. “I was a fucking wreck. Lost my job at the toy store because I was terrible at my job, and the diner… well, I quit that place. His parents went there too much. Me mum didn’t push me to do too much… I think she liked having me around to help take care of all the kids, honestly. Working with kids was all that sort of… kept me sane, I guess.”

Louis shrugs it off like it’s nothing, but Liam can’t help but say, “That’s great. I’m glad you found something to distract you for a while.” He’s thinking about his own situation and doesn’t know what on earth he’s going to do when he’s not working – how he’s going to forget about Sophia and pretend he didn’t basically put his life on hold for her.

Louis looks up at Liam and frowns deeper. “You’re going to be okay, Leemo,” he says, and Liam feels his heart flutter at the words. Not just because of the new, special nickname, but because this near-perfect stranger has such faith in him. Louis shakes their hands a little, reminding Liam that he’s still there, anchoring him in reality, and adds, “You’re a hero, after all. A fireman, honestly? Who does that?”

He laughs, beautifully, and Liam can’t fight his own smile. It feels so good, knowing Louis has faith in him, trusts him, and Liam lets go of his hand in a quick moment of urgency. He retrieves his phone from his jacket pocket. After offering it to Louis, he says, “I want your number. And I’m going to give you mine. And you’re going to tell me how it goes as soon as you finish your audition.” Louis raises an eyebrow, not taking the phone yet. “I’m not crazy, just do it!” Liam says, smiling now. “We’re friends, right? This is what friends do. Support each other.”

Louis bites back some sort of criticism or joke – Liam’s still learning how to read him – but he takes the phone and types in his number before offering his own phone to Liam. As Liam’s putting in his phone number, Louis yawns rather loudly, and Liam definitely notices.

“You should get some sleep,” Liam observes.

Louis shifts uncomfortably on the unfortunate sparkly pillow he was stuck with, and he groans. “Not gonna be able to sleep well here,” he whines.

“If you’re tired enough, you will,” Liam says, though he’s looking around at the pillows and blankets they’ve got with them to try to sort out how they can lay down to sleep.

They’re both trying to find a way to get comfortable until Louis huffs and leans against the wall angrily. “I knew I shouldn’t have even bothered with this trip,” he mutters.

“Hey, come on,” Liam tries. “It’s not that bad. We’ll just…” he reaches out for his suitcase and starts to unzip it.

“Liam… what are you doing?” Louis asks.

“We can like… make more cushion with my clothes,” he explains, pulling out all of his flannel shirts and tee shirts and a few pairs of sleep pants. “Just… set it all up. We’ll share.”

“Like sharing a cot?” Louis snorts.

“Do you have a better idea?” Liam counters.

Louis seriously looks like he’s trying to think one up, but he’s checked his luggage and he’d rather not sleep on the hard floors of Heathrow airport, if he has something to say about it. “Alright then. Let’s keep it PG though, yeah?” he laughs.

“Hmm, I can manage, but can you?” Liam teases.

Louis laughs, sure that he can, and he pulls at the blanket to get it out of the way so Liam can set up a little cot for them in the corner. After he’s got most of his clothes spread out along the floor in little bunches, he lets Louis lay down first. “You need some, too,” Louis says as he lays down on his side.

“I’ll be fine,” Liam insists. “I still have some,” he adds as he lays down behind Louis, close like they’re a couple, the bigger spoon on their little makeshift bed.

And sure, it’s a lie, because he’s got maybe 10% of all the clothing and cushions underneath him, but Louis is comfortable and Liam could probably sleep on the hard floor anyway, he’s so exhausted. Out of necessity in their tight quarters, Liam wraps his arm around Louis’s waist, totally cuddling with him now.

“Still wish you hadn’t gone on this trip?” Liam asks cockily, whispering in Louis’s ear.

“Sleep, you bastard,” Louis whispers in reply, kicking Liam in the shin before he closes his eyes. His covers Liam’s where it’s draped around his waist like they were meant to be lying like that from the very start.

 

**6:00 AM**

Zayn is the first to stir in the morning. There’s a busy hum in the airport, the sound of people making their way to coffee shops and ticket counters, preparing to try to get their travel plans back on course. He blinks a few times, rubs his hands at his eyes, and yawns. He’s been curled up all night, but he’s slept in worse ways.

He’s still using Harry as a pillow, though Harry sprawled out during the night so he’s now resting his head on his stomach. Niall’s face is close by – Zayn can hear the light snores – and as he sits up he sees that Niall’s curled up next to Harry, in his arms, with his head on his chest. Zayn yawns and reaches for his phone, cursing when he sees that it’s lost charge overnight.

Zayn stands, careful not to wake the others, and wanders down the hallway a bit so he can take a look at one of the information screens. Flights will be running as scheduled, he’s glad to see. Out the windows, all he can see is the blinding white of the blizzard’s remnants under the faint sunlight behind the clouds blanketing the sky. The snow is higher than he’s ever seen it, in mounds at all ends of the runways, but he sees plows working hard to move away the last of it, to make it safe to travel.

After a long twenty-four hours, all Zayn wants is to be back home with his family, in bed, or maybe with a nice cup of tea made just right, the way his mum does.

He spots a departure board and looks up at it, searching for his flight. It’s hard to remember which one he’s on, after all the changes yesterday, and he has to pull the crumpled ticket out of his pocket to get a good look at it. His flight leaves at 7:40 – that gives him about an hour before he has to board.

Even though he’s made friends over the course of being stranded, Zayn’s ready to leave. He’s always preferred being alone, been better being alone, and while they’ve all been very kind, he’s ready to go back to his family – the familiarity of them.

With the last bit of spare change in his pocket, Zayn walks to the nearest café and orders himself a black coffee. He wants to wake up, to be ready for the questions and the worry once he lands back home. It’s also something to do to pass the time while he waits. He’s pretty sure the others board after him – but not sure enough to risk it.

Once he has his coffee, Zayn walks back to their little corner of the terminal by A1 and decides to jostle Harry first. Harry, in his momentary half-consciousness, nearly bursts out of his skin in surprise at the touch. He sits up, waking Niall in the process, and he’s clearly confused. Zayn watches as he remembers the day before, the chaos and mass of delays, and then smiles at him. “Morning,” he says. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah, thanks,” Zayn nods.

He sits again, next to the wall, and lets Harry and Niall compose themselves a little. He’s not sure what happened between them after he fell asleep – or Liam and Louis for that matter. They’re curled up on his other side, Louis on what looks like a pile of clothes, hidden in Liam’s arms, face in his chest. Even in a group of people, Zayn realizes he’s better alone, and he’s at peace with that.

“It’s nearly 6:30,” he tells Harry and Niall. “I wasn’t sure when you guys had to fly out, so…” he trails off and then looks over at Liam and Louis. “They’re next,” he gestures.

“Give them just a few more minutes,” Harry says with a fond smile on his face. “They look so good together.”

“Are we sure they’re not?” Niall laughs.

Zayn huffs out a half-laugh, glancing back at the two of them, and it seems strange to him, two people getting together after one single day in an airport. But it seems to be happening for those two, and maybe Niall and Harry even if they can’t see it yet.

“What time do you guys fly out?” Zayn asks after a beat.

Harry pulls out his phone while Niall rummages in his pocket, and they both come up with their answer around the same time:

“Not until this afternoon,” Harry says.

“Mine’s at 7:55.”

“You?” Harry wonders.

“Ah, 7:40,” Zayn replies. “So first, I guess. Unless they’ve got earlier.”

“We should wake them,” Harry suggests.

“Dibs!”

Niall’s shouting dibs and rushing towards them before Harry nor Zayn can stop him. “Wake up, lovebirds!” he grins as he leans over them, jostling their shoulders.

Harry laughs at how ridiculous he looks but chooses to join in, leaning over to muss up their hair as he says, “Time to wake up you two! Let’s get some brekkie!”

Louis groans and buries his face against Liam’s chest. Liam, meanwhile, looks around in confusion, like he’d forgotten the two of them fell asleep wrapped up in each other the night before. Zayn laughs, but gives the others their space. Slowly, Liam sits up and Louis whines because that means he’s got to move, too. “Don’t miss your flights,” Harry warns.

“Mine’s at like 8:55,” Liam grumbles, his voice low and raspy from sleeping.

“What about Louis?”

“His is at 8:20,” Liam replies.

That makes both Harry and Niall lean back and raise their eyebrows. Even Louis looks surprised. “We talked about it last night,” Liam says lamely. “I’m not gonna forget my mate’s flight time.”

“Mates, yeah,” Niall snorts. “That’s all this is.”

Louis points his nose up and deliberately ignores them as he stands up, brushing dust from the floor off of his trackies. “Your clothes are all over the floor, Liam,” he laughs.

Liam’s already reaching out to pick them up, and he doesn’t even mind that they’ve gotten dirty because Louis looks like he had a good night’s sleep and that was the main goal, anyway. After a beat, Louis kneels back down and starts packing up the clothes with Liam, folding them as nicely as his impatient hands can manage. “Thank you,” he whispers, sharing his words only with Liam.

“Of course,” Liam replies, glancing over at Louis to smile at him.

They zip up Liam’s luggage and then stand, stretching. “Let’s go have brekkie, yeah?” Harry suggests.

“If you say _your treat_ , Harry, I might punch you,” Louis says, holding up a finger in warning.

Harry pauses, mouth open, because he was going to say exactly that. “Actually, mate, I appreciate the offer, but I think maybe we’ll head out, just freshen up in the loo and get a cup of coffee,” Liam suggests, glancing at Louis to see if he wants to join him. “I will, at least.”

“Yeah, I should too. I fly out soon,” Louis says. “I don’t want to look like total shit when I land in New York. Y’know. Since I have an audition and all that.”

“Of course,” Harry nods, looking a bit put out. He turns to his side where the others are standing. “Niall? Zayn?”

Zayn holds up his coffee and says, “I should get to my gate. I’ll probably board soon.”

Harry frowns for a moment as he realizes they’re all about to part ways.

“Well… I guess this is goodbye then.”

He looks sad as he says it, and there’s a similar feeling washing over the others: a disappointment that they don’t get more time together. Louis sighs and walks over to Harry to give him a big hug. “It’s alright, Hazza,” he says, using the nickname fondly. “It’s been fun.”

“D’you all have my number?” he asks as he hugs Louis, grateful for the contact.

They all nod. Harry had taken every opportunity to hand out his number to these new people he’d met, for whatever reason. He looks sad, seeing everyone ready to part ways, and Niall notices it the most. He frowns as he pats Harry on the back, and then Louis breaks out of the hug to give Liam a turn.

Harry wraps everyone in a big, warm hug in turn, limbs curling around them to surround them with warmth and friendship. Even Zayn falls into it, happy for the reassuring touch before he gets back on a plane. His anxiety is returning so he’s glad for the bit of respite in the form of Harry’s embrace. “Let’s walk Zayn to his gate then, yeah?” Niall suggests, to which everyone agrees. “Where are we headed?” he asks Zayn.

“Erm,” Zayn mumbles as he reaches in his pocket for his ticket. When he does, he realizes he’s still wearing Niall’s jacket. “A11. And… here,” he says, pulling off the jacket. He shivers at the cold of the terminal as he holds it out, but he’s never going to see him again, he knows.

“You look cold,” Niall says, brushing it off. “Wear it. Bring it back to me when you get back to London. I’ll be here.” He sounds a bit wistful as he says it, but he likes that it means they’ll have an excuse to hang out again, assuming Zayn agrees. He does.

He pulls it back on, grateful for the warmth again, and says, “Cheers.”

They gather up the piles of pillows and blankets and distribute them amongst each other to use during flight before they start walking towards Zayn’s gate. Nobody says a word, all of them a bit upset at having to say goodbye to these new people who just sort of _got_ them, like they’ve been meant to be friends for years.

_“We are now boarding for British Airways flight one-three-four-six with service to Leeds-Bradford at gate A11.  
Please line up with your boarding pass and passport in hand. Thank you.”_

Zayn looks around at the four guys who helped him get through what would have otherwise been a very boring day, and he shrugs. “Well… nice meeting you all,” he says.

“Keep in touch,” Harry says, nearly pleading in his request.

“Have a good trip, mate,” Louis offers.

Niall waves and Liam claps him on the shoulder as they approach the gate. “Happy holidays,” Zayn says to them, nodding one last time in thanks and goodbye before he turns to the woman at the ticket counter.

He holds out his ticket, glances once move over his shoulder to wave, and then disappears down the jet bridge. “Who knew twenty-four hours could do so much,” Liam comments softly. “I didn’t even know him this time yesterday and like… I miss him.”

“Me too,” Harry agrees.

The others nod, and Louis tugs at Liam’s bag to get him away from the gate. He looks like he has something on his mind, and Liam did say, after all, that they were going to part ways. “This is where we say goodbye, too,” Liam says lamely. “Thanks for everything. The company and pillows and food and…”

He trails off, because he couldn’t ever fully thank them for being so supportive and kind during the Sophia mess. “Keep in touch, you guys,” Harry says, hugging them both again.

“Goodness, Hazza,” Louis laughs as he hugs him. “You need to let us walk away before you’re allowed to miss us!”

They give Niall hugs as well, and with one last wave they wheel down the hallway to get some tea and breakfast while Harry and Niall go to Niall’s gate so he can board next.

“So… last night, huh,” Louis begins awkwardly once they’re out of earshot of the others.

Liam looks around, making sure they’re away from anyone they know, and he smiles a little. “It was just cuddling,” he says.

“I mean a lot more than that,” Louis replies instantly. He feels awkward and jittery, not only because he enjoyed cuddling this near-stranger as much as he did, but because he’d opened up to him so much – more than his own family, even.

They queue up for tea and breakfast at the Starbucks stand and Liam adopts a look of seriousness as he says, “Last night was… nice. I liked it. I feel so special that you opened up to me and… I’m sorry you had to go through that. I don’t remember if I said that or not, but I mean it. That was shit, what he did to you. You deserve so much better.”

“Yeah, well, not many people want to settle down in a small town with someone who doesn’t want to try for big things. Not all of us are meant for big things,” Louis sighs. “But… thanks.” He has so much more he wants to say, but he keeps it to himself because he doesn’t want to wax poetic about how good it felt to get it all off his chest. They’re still practically strangers, after all.

But are they really?

Liam bites his lip and wants to say something, but then it’s their turn in line. “I’ll take a coffee, actually. No cream. And tea for him, no cream or sugar,” Liam says confidently. “And for food, let’s see… I’ll just have a croissant. Lou? What do you want to eat?”

He looks over at Louis, who’s suddenly looking at him like he’s sprouted three heads. “Chocolate croissant,” Louis says.

Liam gives the barista his credit card and tries to ignore the odd look he’s getting from Louis. He wants to ask, but decides to wait until they’ve left the Starbucks. They lean against the wall nearby and before he takes a sip of anything, Louis says, “We know each other better than we think, don’t we?”

Liam glances over, lowering his cup after he’s taken a sip, and he says, “I… yeah, you’re right. I mean, there’s a lot I don’t know about you, but… I feel like we’re friends.”

Louis studies Liam closely, like he wants to say something but it’s stuck on the tip of his tongue. “You know,” Liam adds, looking Louis once up and down. “You said nobody wants a person who won’t try for big things, and I think you were talking about yourself, but… Louis, you’re flying to another continent to try to chase your dreams. That’s… so brave. Much braver than I’d ever be able to do.”

“Liam, look at me,” Louis snorts derisively. “Like I’m _actually_ going to get the role. There’s no chance.”

Liam frowns and looks determined as he says, “But you’re trying, and that’s more than a lot of people do. And so what if you don’t get it? You tried it. You know what auditions are like. You can keep going, you can decide to stick around England, you can do anything you want.”

“But maybe what I want is to keep coaching kids and working in a daycare. Maybe I’m that sad person who’s never going to leave their hometown or amount to anything,” Louis sighs. “I don’t even know why I’m going to this audition in the first place. Like, was I pathetic enough to think my ex would care if he was wrong about me, if I get this?”

“That’s not pathetic,” Liam offers. “It’s hopeful. But I don’t think you should care what he thinks. Or what others will think. You’re clearly talented, I know that already.” He takes a sip of his coffee as Louis rolls his eyes. When Louis seems to have settled down, he adds, “Besides, sticking around your hometown and teaching kids isn’t _nothing_ , Lou. That’s a career for some people, and it can be for you, too. It’s an admirable job. You get to help kids in the most influential years of their life.”

Louis leans away from the wall and stands to look up at Liam, eye to eye. “How are you so kind? You see the good in everyone and everything and I just… I don’t understand it. You hardly know me,” he says.

“True,” Liam shrugs. “I guess I just want to make people feel good about themselves.”

“But why?”

Liam sighs and avoids Louis’s eyes. He tries not to flash back to his childhood, he really does, but he feels he should be as open with Louis as Louis was with him. He _wants_ to be. “Because nobody ever did that for me and I hated the feeling. So I refuse to stand by and watch others feel bad about themselves. Nobody deserves that. Nobody,” he says fiercely. “It shouldn’t matter if you want to stay in Doncaster or any other small town for that matter. Nobody should care _why_ you’re in the jobs that you are. What matters is that you’re making something of your life and you’re making kids’ lives better and I think that’s brilliant, Lou. It’s amazing. And anyone who doesn’t think settling down with you and the life you have for yourself right now is one hundred percent worth it isn’t someone you want in your life anyway.”

Louis stares up at Liam in awe. He’s never heard someone defend him so strongly, so blindly. Like he’s the most important person in this world and all of his decisions are valid and worthwhile. It’s hard for him to take in, because Liam is so new, but it rings oddly true, what he’s said. Liam has determination in his eyes as he says, “Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’re going to find the right person.”

It’s easy then, for Louis to nod and agree. Somewhere deep in his chest he feels a tightness, a pull towards Liam that he’s never felt for anyone else in his life. It makes him feel at ease, like he’s curled up in bed after a long day and everything good in the world surrounds him and all the bad was left at the door.

“You’re right,” Louis agrees, and it’s probably the most agreeable Liam’s ever seen him.

Louis is holding his coffee in one hand, but with a bout of courage he reaches out with his other, placing it at the nape of Liam’s neck where his hair is soft and mussed from sleeping. He steps closer, their toes bumping, and it should feel awkward but it doesn’t – it feels right. They’re moving in tandem now, and Liam holds his cup away from his body, giving Louis more space, the other hand hovering by Louis’s hip. He wants to touch – _yearns_ to touch – but isn’t sure he’s allowed.

At least until Louis leans in. As soon as their lips meet it’s everything they’ve ever dreamed of in a kiss – every cliché, every love song, every description of a person’s most momentous occasion of their life. Liam’s hand grips Louis’s hip like he’s surprised by how nice it is, feeling Louis in his space, kissing him, tasting his coffee on his lips.

Louis’s mouth tastes like morning and tea and there’s sweetness from his croissant and Liam has never felt so at peace and happy as he is when he’s got Louis in his arms, their mouths moving together in perfect synchronicity. Louis moves his lips hesitantly – a stark contrast to his loud personality – and Liam leans in, kissing back, sucking gently at Louis’s lower lip.

_“We are now boarding for British Airways flight zero-one-one-zeven with service to New York at gate A18.  
Please line up with your boarding pass and passport in hand. Thank you.”_

With a groan, Louis pulls out of the kiss, frowning deeply. He looks over his shoulder like he’s not so sure he even wants to leave anymore. “I could just…” he begins, looking hopeful.

“Go to your audition, Louis,” Liam cuts him off gently, because he already knows what Louis wants to do. “I’m still going to be in England when you get back.”

“But what if I get it?”

Liam smiles, because just five minutes ago Louis didn’t think he would. “Then film it and I’ll be here when you get back. Except then I’ll make you watch it with me,” he says. “Let me know how the audition goes anyway, okay? Either way?”

Louis nods and purses his lips.

“I should… go.”

Liam nods and reaches out for Louis’s hand to give it a gentle squeeze. “I’m glad we met,” he confesses.

“Yeah, me too.”

Louis sounds exhausted now, or maybe he’s just sad – Liam doesn’t know him _that_ well yet – but he wishes he could do more to help. “You’re going to be brilliant,” Liam says as they reach the gate.

Louis fumbles for his ticket but eventually pulls it from his pocket, avoiding Liam’s eyes. He’s scared that this will all fade from memory like a dream, that Liam is going to go back to Wolverhampton and decide he doesn’t want him.

“Have a good flight,” Liam says politely.

Louis nods.

“Thanks, Liam. For everything,” Louis says as the woman at the ticket counter tries to get him to board.

“Of course. Call when you get in,” Liam says, like he’s seeing off a loved one rather than someone he’s just met.

Louis reaches out for a big hug, one where he buries his face in Liam’s chest and memorizes his scent and the way he makes him feel. He’s still not sure that Liam will be there, wanting him, when he gets back.

It’s hard for him to let go, to hand the ticket over, but Liam’s gently coaxing him away. He’s got a big dumb smile on his face, a look of pride, and Louis both hates it and finds it extremely endearing.

In the end it’s difficult, but he boards the plane and watches sadly as in no time at all, Heathrow becomes a tiny little speck below the plane, long gone.

 

**11:30 AM, New York City**

The eight hour flight is exhausting for Louis, and he didn’t even have to do anything. The flight was crowded, naturally, but he got a window seat so he was satisfied enough. He would have hated being squished between two people he didn’t know.

When he walks off the plane in New York, he’s filled with dread. He’s in an unfamiliar place with a limited amount of money, and he’s not even so sure he wants this audition anymore. Not when he knows Liam’s back in England waiting for him. Louis sighs and starts to wander out of jet bridge and towards the airport proper. He’s got to find a map, get his bags, and figure out the cheapest way to the audition – the audition taking place in a mere three and a half hours.

He has no idea what he’s going to do – and he’s never worried so much before in his life – but it all disappears when he steps off the jet bridge and runs right into someone.

Someone that looks _exactly_ like Liam Payne.

“Sorry,” Louis says, flushed.

His eyes squint and he looks Liam up and down like he thinks he’s got a twin or an imposter. It’s all very confusing for Louis, who’s frazzled enough as it is. It certainly doesn’t help that this Liam-twin has started _laughing_ now.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he says.

And the voice is the same. The accent is the same. And when it dawns on Louis that he’s not dreaming, that Liam is _actually_ here, his jaw literally drops. “You… Liam?”

Liam nods, clearly proud of himself. He holds up his ticket from the flight they were just on and he grins as he waves it back and forth. “You’d be surprised what a first class ticket can get you,” he says. “All I had to do was pay a tiny fee and they were willing to switch me to your flight. I sat up front so you wouldn’t see me, but…”

“Liam,” Louis says, breathless.

“I mean… I was going to fly to another country for someone who didn’t even care about me anymore, so how is this any different?”

“This is _America_ , Liam. And you were flying to see your fiancée.”

“But now she’s not my fiancée anymore. I’m single. And clearly you care more about me than she does, if that kiss was anything to go by, so…” he trails off. “I wanted to be here for you. To make sure you got to your audition okay and to maybe do a little sightseeing before we go back.”

“I fly back tomorrow,” Louis says flatly.

“Well then we have a lot to do today, don’t we?” Liam grins.

And Louis never thought he’d want to see some near-stranger waiting for him in an airport halfway across the globe, but the truth is that he could break into tears at any moment because what Liam did for him was something nobody has ever done for Louis before. It’s shocking, what Liam did for him, and the fact that Louis doesn’t have to face this alone leaves him feeling so safe in this foreign place.

He stares up at Liam in awe, again, because never in a million years could he have hoped to meet someone so genuinely kind and thoughtful.

Liam offers Louis his hand, a smile on his face as he waits for Louis to process everything. It takes him a minute, but gently he places his hand in Liam’s and lets the feeling settle in his bones. He’s memorizing every moment, every touch and every sweet thing Liam says, like he’s afraid it’s going to end like everything else.

“I haven’t got a clue how to get to the audition.”

Liam just smiles.

“It’s okay. We’ll figure it out together.”

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on tumblr @ tiffinities


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